


pandemonium

by LIGHTSJOON



Category: ONF (Band)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Double Crossing, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Fantasy, Flashbacks, Half-Human, High Lords, Immorality, Immortality, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Male Friendship, Mates, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pixies, Princes, Sort of immortal I guess, donghun from ace makes a v short appearance, humans and fairies, lets see how this goes, seungjun is a human and hyojin is a fae, what about it, yes the other high lords are k-actors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:43:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 62,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LIGHTSJOON/pseuds/LIGHTSJOON
Summary: which is worse? making a deal with the devil or a fae king?
Relationships: Kim Hyojin & Lee Seungjun | J-Us, Lee Changyoon | E-Tion/Mizuguchi Yuto | U, Lee Changyoon | E-Tion/Park Minkyun | MK
Comments: 72
Kudos: 75





	1. bear trap

**Author's Note:**

> this is sort of an experimental fic for me!! 
> 
> I published this to sort of get an idea if people would like this sort of story and would want to read more of it. 
> 
> if you have some time, please leave me a comment down below so I can hear your guys' thoughts!! :)
> 
> enjoy

_ “Minkyun!  _ Minkyun, please you have to wake up!”

They weren’t supposed to be in the forest. They shouldn’t have. They’d been banned from passing through the towering line of cedar trees, and warned by their parents of its dangers, since they could walk on their own two feet. 

He wasn’t sure why they were here, or how they even found themselves traveling this deep into the darkness, in a land that belonged to demons, but there was nothing more important to him than making sure Minkyun got out of here unscathed. 

Some called them devils, others called them the Fae. Seungjun knew the difference, why that difference was important, but he never bothered to correct anyone. It wasn’t worth expending the energy. 

One moment they were being chased by a wild boar, and by the time he was able to  _ really  _ take in his surroundings, they were being swallowed whole by a thick fog in the middle of the unknown. Something deep in Seungjun’s weak heart began to suspect that none of this could be chalked out to coincidence. 

“Minkyun, this isn’t funny,” Seungjun scolded, gripping the younger’s face in his hands. “Stop playing games and get up!” 

A distant cracking of a branch beneath someone’s foot drove Seungjun into instant silence. His pulse thrummed in his ears, the heat of his fear manifesting at the base of his neck. 

_ It’s just an animal Seungjun,  _ he thought.  _ Now is not the time to panic over something that could be nothing.  _

Seungjun had never been afraid of the Fae and their eclectic culture. At least not the same way his parents and the rest of the village feared them. Most feared them for their ability to wield humans like puppets, all with the simple whisper of a name. Others fear them for their existence alone—creatures created by a malevolent being that (to Seungjun) only cater to humans in justifying their own sins. 

“Oh god…” Seungjun mumbled. “Oh god what do I do?” 

From what he could see, Minkyun wasn’t hurt. He was free from any traces of blood or open wounds, but there was nothing to explain why he’d fainted so suddenly. 

“Don’t worry, Kyun, I’m going to get you out of here.” 

Seungjun’s heart froze at the echoing sound of hands slowly clapping together. It cracked like lightning and rolled like thunder on a rainless day. He didn’t know of a single animal that could imitate a sound so distinct and specific; it sure as hell wasn’t the wind. He wasn’t definite as to which direction it was coming from, but his heart hammered fiercely against his rib cage as the sound grew louder, fiercer. 

Like a whisper riding the wind, a voice passed through him, like goosebumps upon flesh. 

_ “Prince of Pandora…”  _ A sudden gust of wind circled him.  _ “How noble of you to protect a mere commoner without thinking of your own safety.”  _

Seungjun squared his shoulders. “How dare you speak the name of this land—”

_ “As if it were ever truly yours…”  _ The wind ceased all together, leaving behind a deafening quiet. Until the soft voice said,  _ “This land has stood here, remained untouched by man for ages. It has seen and heard the secrets of the Fae, demons, and gods alike. It has seen cosmic wars and destruction that man could never fathom.”  _

A figure no taller than him appeared from between the trees just ahead. Seungjun eyed where Minkyun slept peacefully,  _ deeply,  _ just ahead of him, as the figure made its way toward them. 

Something short of a malicious grin spread at its lips. It looked like a human, spoke the language of humans, but Seungjun knew the deception of the Fae. Their glamours allowed an average person to see their deepest desires, to gaze upon the deepest of their suppressed dreams. 

For Seungjun, it was a man. They averaged the same height on a good day, depending on what shoes were worn. His features were similar to that of the province, his eyes distinctly almost in shape without even a shred of doubt. Yet, unlike most common folk, his hair was a deep burgundy. It— _ He _ —was breathtaking in every way Seungjun once imagined it would be, but now that he was there in the flesh, standing before him with such arrogant confidence, Seungjun couldn’t help but feel disgusted. 

“I believe it’s considered impolite to stare according to mortal customs.” 

Seungjun met the apparition's eyes as it stopped at Minkyun’s feet. Only the length of Minkyun’s limp body separated them, and Seungjun could only wonder if the young man who studied him with such keen interest was just as solid and real as either him or Minkyun. 

“What’s wrong with my friend?” 

The redhead chuckled against the eerie silence of the fog. “You don’t get something for nothing, my dear prince.” 

There it was. He’d always been told that bartering the Fae always came with a price, even though he didn’t have much to offer. He could give up almost anything, but he’d always been instructed to never surrender his name. By letting them have that vague piece of him, they gained everything. A person. A life. A kingdom. 

“Tell me something.” The young man spoke, voice full of amusement. “Anything. Something a single soul, other than I, wouldn’t know about you.” 

He knew he’d have to choose his secret wisely. The fae wouldn’t accept just  _ any  _ answer. It would have to come from deep past his heart and through the vast abyss of his soul. 

Seungjun shuttered a breath, shoving a hand into his back pocket. “I do not want to marry a female bride. I do not want a Queen at my side.” 

The faeire’s brows furrowed in contemplation, then relaxed. “That tells me nothing. Give me something of value.” 

“And if I do not?”

He shrugged. “Then your friend will not be able to walk out of this forest without being called by his name.”

“No. I forbid it.” 

“It’s a simple choice then.” 

Seungjun sighed, his hand going straight through his hair. He swallowed his pride, meeting the soft green eyes of the man across from him. He’d never told a single person, never let anyone suspect, but he would speak the words aloud if it meant Minkyun would walk free. “I wish to wed a male partner.” 

The faerie smiled something wide, a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction buried beneath that stubborn pleasure. 

“Now  _ that... _ that is something.” He cleared his throat and looked to the dense environment that surrounded them on all sides. “This forest is protected by  _ old _ magic. Magic of the Fae that existed milenia before my own creation. It’s unique effects on humans vary, which is dependent on the person and the strength of their soul. Those who possess weakness are more likely to find themselves lost amongst the fog, roaming for weeks on end until the body finally breaks down.”

Seungjun glanced at Minkyun, then back to the young man and waited. 

“For those who exhibit strength…they are deemed worthy by the territory.” The redhead shrugged, “They are gifted a chance to walk amongst our kind. However, I cannot uphold that many have made it back home.” 

“What does that mean for me? For my friend?” 

The fae’s gaze flickered between the two of them, as if analyzing something that Seungjun couldn’t see with his mortal sight. “Your friend may be strong of heart, but a strong courageous heart means nothing if your soul is frail. Much of which has depleted over the years.  _ You _ , on the other hand, are the opposite, sweet prince. Although your soul has might and remains plentiful, your heart is worn openly for the world to see. It’s your greatest weakness as a royal.” 

“You were given a chance,” he continues. Those soft olive eyes pouring into his own. “I bestowed upon you a mercy. The chance for you to see the person you crave most in a world that would only fault you for who you truly are. But, everything comes with a price.” 

Seungjun swallowed hard against the lump that was forming in his throat. A trap. It had always been a trap. The boar—it had only been a means to ensnare him like the defenseless prey he’d become. 

“What would you be willing to pay?” The fae asked, a hint of amusement tucked behind that snarky conceit. “What would you be willing to sacrifice for the life of your friend?” 

“Why must I give you anything?” 

The nameless young man stared at him with great curiosity. Whether he was analyzing the words, his demeanor, or both, Seungjun couldn’t tell. “For a mortal prince, your predecessors truly never taught you the necessities for Faerie relations, did they?” He chuckled dryly. “It’s clear that you understand the dynamic in which we  _ trade _ . Information is just as and sometimes even more valuable than even the rarest jewels that nature can offer. Surely, you and your family understand how to tread when dealing with sensitive information.” 

Seungjun folded his arms across his chest. “And what does that have to do with helping my friend?” 

“What you seek is information,” he stated plainly. “A way out of this trap. Seeing as both of you have been granted an opportunity, the answer is dependent on whether or not you choose accordingly.” 

“I don’t think I follow what—”

The faerie lifted his palm, silencing him mid-thought. A sly smirk so genuine that it reached his eyes. “Now tell me, Pandorian prince. What price would you be willing to pay to ensure the safety of your friend?” 

Seungjun knew what he was asking of him, what he wanted him to give up. It would cost him everything, and even though he’d never wanted to be a prince, never wanted to bend to the will and demands of responsibility that comes with governing millions of people, he found himself anxious standing before the idea of foregoing that security his parents had established for him. 

“Would you walk further into the unknown in order to let him pass through unharmed?” 

The young prince sighed, slowly stepping around Minkyun’s body until he was standing directly in front of a dream that had turned dark. “What is it that you want from me?” 

The latter shook his head. “It is not what I want, but what you desire most.” 

Freedom. The ability to choose for himself, to live a life free of criticism from the public eye—people who are his own, but far from all the same.

“Time.” The word rolled off of his tongue like a hot coal. “I’ll pay for this favor in time.” 

“Foolish child…” the redhead dared a step closer, but Seungjun would stand his ground. Whispering against the shell of his ear, he said, “There are no such things as favors.” 


	2. the sheep & the lion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the conclusion to the previous chapter!!
> 
> hopefully the next chapter will be longer!
> 
> feel free to leave feedback :)

It wasn’t easy, watching Minkyun walk out of that forest without his own face. 

Seungjun had agreed to pay for Hyojin’s—supposedly that was his name—help, but he didn’t think that the fae would call on his debt immediately. 

“ _ That... _ is also very interesting,” he’d mused. “But I don’t deal in obscurities. Although I enjoy the particularly gray area of a person’s words, I’m feeling pretty... _ generous _ today.” 

“I don’t quite understand.” 

Hyojin folded his arms, bringing a hand to his chin to feign contemplation. “You are willing to give up mortal time for the sake of this companion of yours. As you certainly know, time is a bit vague. So my question to you is this: how much time is he worth?”

There was no monetary or timely value that could ever measure up to their friendship. He’d have to give his life to satisfy just how much Minkyun meant to him and his family. 

“How much time are you willing to spare?” Seungjun asked. 

Hyojin’s eyebrow flickered with sincere interest. “Not a single soul has ever asked what you have. You must be feeling rather bold.” 

“He’s like my brother…” he countered. “I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do for him.” 

_ “Interesting,” _ the word slipped through his teeth like the soft hiss of a snake. 

_ “But…”  _ Seungjun rolled his neck, the density of the luring fog beginning to settle in the back of his mind. “You are well versed in mortal royal politics, as you know of my status, and perhaps even my own name. If anything were to happen to either of my parents, you ought to know what that means for someone like me.” 

A malicious grin stretched in his features as he said, “Oh, do I.” 

The look that crossed Hyojin’s face was as light as a lightbulb, as if the flow of ideas were finally coming to a slow, and a resolution knocking at his door. “A proposition has stumbled upon me, Your Highness.” 

Seungjun’s eyebrow arched in question as the fae paced several steps ahead of him. 

“I will let your friend walk out of here on his own volition. He will be clear of mind, clear of heart, and unaffected by this spell.” He paused, leaning down to Minkyun’s level, almost as if he were examining the state he was in. As he fiddled with the laces of the boots, he said, “In exchange, you will travel with me to the Winter Court in Faerie.” 

Seungjun stumbled back, the shock of the deal nearly throwing him off his feet. “You—did you hear anything of which I just told you, I—”

“You are concerned about your position. That in and of itself is clear, and dare I say admirable.” Hyojin smiled at him innocently. “Consider all of that taken care of.” 

And before Seungjun could open his mouth to push his questions further, Hyojin placed his hands on Minkyun’s leg, and half a heart beat and squeal of the wind later, Minkyun was no longer Minkyun. 

In his place was an exact replica of Seungjun himself. The Pandorian Prince that was scared to love, terrified to rule, and fearful of his looming future. 

“What are you doing?” Fear leached through the question like poison through veins. “You said he’d be unaffected.” 

Hyojin stood, leaving Minkyun in the shell of his own appearance.  _ “Everything  _ comes with a price. Everything. And this is yours. Either let the world feel the weight of your absence, or let a small family grasp the weight of his.”

It was a selfish deal. Truly and horribly thoughtless. But he would rather ask Minkyun to feel the gravity of what it’s like to be a prince for a short while, than let him rot in this hellish landscape, a place where humans refused to set foot. 

“And how long will he stay like this?” 

Hyojin stepped closer into Seungjun’s personal space. A chuckle dripping from his pride. “When the King or Queen of the mortal realm pass on, I will return you to this life.” 

It could be  _ years  _ before a royal passing. There was no telling how long Minkyun would have to be trapped in that body, in this cruel and unforgiving life. But it was better than knowing he’d be leaving his dear friend for death to claim him so inhumanly. 

Either option was selfish—to leave him meant selfishly protecting his own life, but to allow him to live and pose as the Prince of Pandora meant that he would be succumbing Minkyun to a life he was far too under qualified for, just to protect his title and birthright.

He could only hope that Minkyun, the son of a baker’s family, could find it in his heart to forgive him one day. 

“Think about it all you like,” Hyojin interjected. “But how long would you like to stand here, even though you’ve already decided to come?” 

And he had agreed to go. At the expense of Minkyun’s mild disappointment, but thankfully his understanding as well. 

“Be safe,” he’d warned. “We’ve all heard about the different trappings and tricks of Faerie. I want you to come back,  _ I need _ you to come back.” 

“It’s only until a royal passing…” Seungjun reassured dimly. “He promised I would be back as soon as it is confirmed.” 

Minkyun’s face paled ever so slightly, but nodded in understanding. 

Seungjun pulled the younger into his arms, a wave of emotions thrashing him in each and every direction. He was terrified to let go of Minkyun, afraid that if he let go now he’d never get the chance to see him again. It wasn’t supposed to be goodbye, but it felt like they were parting ways in the same way one would part ways with their body to cross the bridge into the afterworld. 

“I love you…” Minkyun shuttered through his nerves.

Seungjun closed his eyes as tears threatened to surface. Tightening his grip around his new mirror image, Seungjun whispered. “I’ll be back...this isn’t forever.” 

Minkyun took a step back, just enough to look at his best friend’s face. “Time works differently there. One year there could be ten years here. Just—please be careful. _ Please _ .” 

There were no words to fully describe how painful it was to see Minkyun walk out of that forest wearing the face of a Pandorian prince. A young boy who dreamed of having so much, when he really only had so little, was finally earning a chance to embrace those very dreams. But neither of them ever suspected it would be like this. A dream they couldn’t share together. 

A dream. 

A  _ secret.  _

Perhaps some may see it as conspiracy. 

The concealment of a royal’s sins by presenting a sheep wearing the lion’s fur.


	3. stolen identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi I’m back after .... hours LMAO 
> 
> I hope y’all enjoy :)

Seungjun hadn’t been sure what to expect from Faerie, let alone the Winter Court, which sat at the heart of Fae territory. 

He couldn’t remember the actual route they’d taken to get here, as if it had been wiped clean from his memory, or perhaps stolen while he wasn’t paying attention, but when he did know was that the Winter Court was much warmer than what he would have expected. 

He’d always figured in a place encapsulated in an endless winter that it would be hailing violently, that the winds would be cold enough to freeze a mortal straight through to their bones. In fact, it was  _ quiet.  _ A kind of quiet that felt like the calm before a much grander storm, but it was peaceful all the same. There was a subtle chill in the air, but he’d faced far worse conditions in the mortal realm. 

Hyojin had dumped him at the front steps of the crystalline palace, a flurry of attendants waiting for him there. 

“I am to meet the Queen before she departs for another court,” Hyojin prefaced. He motioned towards the people before them, “They will see you to your rooms. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask any of them.”

Seungjun didn’t  _ need  _ anything. Especially from the Fae.

As a first born, and only born, prince, he’d quickly learned not to need anything from anyone. His parents. Tutors. Trainers. Kitchen staff. Even his own friends, if he could even call them that. He knew if he’d grown to be dependent on them that it would only make him look weak in the eyes of the people. He would be expected to rule.  _ Alone.  _

Although his childhood wasn’t a lonely one, in many ways it felt as though he were the only person looking out for him in his life. 

Until he met Minkyun. 

Seungjun had snuck into town, looking for an escape of any kind from palace life and the constraints he placed on himself on a daily basis. He’d saved up enough Flourishings to finally go into the local tailor, he’d had his eye on an especially beautiful green satin fabric for a while. He’d hoped to be able to convince their personal tailor to fashion him a new suit for the holiday festival that was nearing. He never cared for anything too flashy or eccentric, he really just wanted something that would be comfortable and would appease his parent’s expectations for their family to look the part as royals. 

_ “Look out!!” _

Seungjun barely had enough time to pull himself out of the lull of his daydream with just enough time to sidestep out of the way of a cart that was hurling toward him at full speed down the hill. 

A tall young man with raven black hair went flying past him, shouting a quick apology as he chased after the cart. The sight of an excitingly mundane task brought a smile to his face, yet he felt a trickle of guilt for not having been given the opportunity to extend his help. 

It had taken almost no time at all for the tailor to recheck his measurements, he hadn’t grown much in weight or height since his last fitting, plus their family had been coming to this tailor ever since he was a child. He was practically with Seungjun with each stage of his short life. 

“Green, huh?” The tailor’s tone was skeptical. Inherently interested in Seungjun’s sudden change in color palette. “That’s very unlike you.” 

Seungjun resisted the urge to swat him playfully. “You know that green is my favorite color!” 

“Since when?!” A chuckle fell from his lips as he stood from taking the final measurement. His tone suddenly turned professional, “What shade of green did you have in mind?”

The young prince eyed the silks and other various fabrics around the small shop, taking in all of his options from the small platform, despite the fact that he’d already known  _ exactly _ which one he wanted. 

“The forest green satin…” Seungjun decided. “The one you had received last time.” 

“But— _ Your Highness _ —” he stuttered, taking a step back to judge his reaction. “That fabric is  _ twice _ as expensive as any of the plain colored ones.” 

“I’m aware.” Seungjun responded casually. “You know I’ve been saving for this.” 

The tailor offered him a warm smile, reaching up to tussle the prince’s hair. “You always have been a stubborn one.” 

They had decided on the green, and even though Seungjun had stepped out of the shop with significantly lighter pockets, his spirits were still high. The project would take nearly two weeks to complete, and Seungjun was already anticipating his next visit into town. 

He had been leisurely making his way back to the palace when he spotted that frantic young man from earlier in the morning. 

Today, Seungjun still regrets going up to Minkyun. Apologizing for being unable to help with the cart, stopping to admire the rare cats he kept in his company, risking more days in the month to sneak out with someone who finally didn’t care about his royal status. Perhaps if he’d kept walking that day, if he’d only just gone home, then they could have avoided this twisted fate. 

They had only been about twenty-three when Minkyun had told him that there was nothing more sacred than true friendship, that he’d finally found that with Seungjun after struggling to befriend the neighborhood children for so long, and that he’d be willing to sacrifice whatever he could to protect it. And it had been in that moment that Seungjun’s heart had faltered for the first time in his life. Because for the first time in their lives, they no longer felt like they were alone. And that scared Seungjun more than becoming king. He was terrified of the lengths he’d be willing to push himself to protect not only himself, but Minkyun as well. 

His deal with Hyojin had been the first test of that desperate anxiety. And somehow Hyojin knew exactly how to exploit that weakness. 

The Winter Court attendants were unmistakably Fae, not High Fae in the same way Hyojin was, but they definitely weren’t mortal. They snaked him through the finely crafted palace, and even he couldn’t stop himself from admiring the excellent craftsmanship of the Fae architecture. There was no material in the moral territory quite like... _ this.  _ There were absolutely no words to even begin comparing the material that the structure had been constructed of. 

The small group stopped before a towering door, pushing the handle in, only to expose a room far grander than his own. Unlike the rest of the palace interior, the room was a stark shade of taupe, the furniture accents a mix of beige, sandstone, and warm browns. 

“If there’s anything you need, please feel free to call upon us. The resources of the palace are yours to take advantage of as an honored guest of the High Lord.” 

“High Lord?” Seungjun arched an eyebrow in the young woman’s direction. 

The handmaiden nodded. “The High Lord of Winter sits at the top of the Winter Court’s hierarchy, just below the Queen.” 

“No. I know, I just…” he trailed off, taking in his surroundings once more. “I just didn’t realize that Hyojin was a High Lord. All of this is his?” 

Another silent nod. 

_ Interesting.  _

“What was a High Lord doing in the mortal realm?” He mumbled to himself. 

“Sir?” 

Not Seungjun. 

Not Your Highness. 

Here, amongst High Fae and lesser Fae alike, he was just another mortal that had been stolen away. The rock bottom of the food chain. He was not expected to be a prince here, to anyone and least of all himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to leave me some feedback :)


	4. deja vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHA ONE

[One Day Ago]

“When are you just going to admit that you’re lonely, Hyo?” 

Hyojin and Changyoon had been sitting on the roof just above his bedroom for an hour now. The weather was decent and neither of them felt like being cooped up in the palace any longer. 

He couldn’t exactly say that Changyoon was his friend. There were no such things in such a place like the Unseelie Court. Merely people you could trust, and those you couldn’t. A cursed place shrouded in so much darkness you could practically breathe it in until it becomes a part of you. 

Changyoon was one of those very people, a person tainted by the ideals and teachings of the Court. He was too far gone to remedy what couldn't be undone, even though he  _ was _ one of the more tolerable High Lords. 

“And what makes you think I’m lonely?” 

Changyoon feigned a look of contemplation, accompanied by a faux hum. “Well, seeing as how I’m your only friend, and you practically work yourself to death. I’m giving you a Floret for your thoughts.” 

Hyojin rolled his eyes, a brief thought of pushing the younger off the roof brushing against his conscience. “Is that so?” 

“You don’t think I notice the physical markers under your glamour…but I may be the only  _ being  _ in the territory that does.” 

It’s not that Hyojin worked day and night, forcing himself to keep awake as work continued to pile up. If it weren’t for the nightmares that pulled him out of sleep at those ungodly hours of the morning, then perhaps he could actually walk around freely without the gods forsaken glamours. 

“You have seen things that no faerie should ever have to…” Chanyoon continued. “What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to keep it to yourself.” 

Hyojin sighed, turning his gaze to the side where Chanyoon sat beside him, the illusion of his appearance tucked away into the well of his power. The edges of his grown out brunette hair were much lighter than the roots, but Hyojin preferred this to the onyx black from his glamour.

“You were there for most of what I’ve ever been though, Chanyoon,” Hyojin stated flatly. “There’s nothing to tell.” 

“I may have been there, I may have felt the same pain you felt…” Changyoon tucked his knees into his chest, his eyes glassy from peering at the night sky for far too long. “But we have coped with those traumas differently.”

Hyojin stretched out his legs until they were dangling over the edge, a feeling he’d known his whole life. “If you think drowning yourself in all of that rum and whiskey is what you consider to be  _ coping,  _ then I think neither of us are qualified to listen to the other’s woes.” 

“At least I come crying to you when it takes affect—”

“If only the people of Autumn knew what becomes of their High Lord when curfew begins,” Hyojin interjected. “Is this how you’ll want to be remembered?” 

“You speak as if I’m going to pass on tomorrow!” 

Hyojin shrugs jokingly. 

“Do you still see him?” 

The elder’s heart felt as if it had caught in his chest. He’d only spoken of the dreams once before, if he could even call them that. They felt so... _ vivid.  _ So real. The High Lord of Winter was not easily frightened, but seeing the visions of a young boy, probably not too much younger than his own appearance, calling out for him in the middle of the night instilled a whole new sort of anxiety in his crumbling soul. 

“Who do you think he is?” Hyojin whispered aloud. 

A warm breeze passed between them, and Changyoon leaned forward, as if to study the puzzled gaze etched into Hyojin’s features. “Do you think he could be—”

_ “Don’t.”  _ The redhead commanded. “Don’t even begin to suggest it.” 

“And what if he is?” 

Hyojin sighed with a deep frustration, bringing his knees to his chest, burying his head between them. “He can’t be. He shouldn’t.” 

“Would it be such a bad thing?” The brunette paused, as if thinking carefully about his wording. 

After a long moment of not saying anything, Hyojin finally said, “Perhaps.” 

—

The following morning Hyojin had been preparing to take a day trip with Changyoon to the Autumn Court on business. 

As High Lord of the Autumn Court, Changyoon was obligated to oversee the planning of the Winter Solstice festival alongside Hyojin as the autumn season began to fade into Winter. It was the primary reason that brought him to the Winter Court in the first place. Hyojin was equally obligated to oversee the activities in the Autumn Court solely because it was located in the same cultural territory. 

Frankly, it all just felt like a fancy way of paying homage to one season, all while greeting the newest. 

He was heading back up to his quarters when a splitting ache shot up his spine. When he opened his eyes, he was running in a clearing that was just on the other side of The Dark Forest.

_ “Minkyun! The forest!”  _

_ A mortal man, who was only half a head taller than he, wrapped his fingers around his wrist pulling him forward. “There’s no time to worry about  _ that _! If we don’t go in, that boar is going to do much worse.”  _

A blanket of confusion wrapped itself around Hyojin’s curiosity. Where was he?  _ Who  _ was he? Why was he here? 

_ The two continued to run,  _ sprinted,  _ until they cleared the line of towering trees just at the edge of the forest. _

A voice broke through his concentration. “High Lord of Winter!” 

He turned to see Yuto, a fairly young pixie that neutrally delivered messages for all courts, Seelie and Unseelie alike. 

“What is it Yuto?” His voice was hoarse as he tried to catch his breath, as if he’d actually been running. 

Yuto’s wings beat rapidly together until he was close to his ear. “Mortals in The Dark Forest, High Lord.” 

—

The Dark Forest was the only thing that acted as a divider between the human world and The Faerie Courts. 

For centuries, it has forgone one name or another, whichever suited the mortals of the time. The Forbidden Wilds, The Dark Forest, The Hell of Faeries. It had been procured by the Fae long ago, far before the lines between fae cultures had been drawn. A group of dark faeries wove a curse so complex, so complicated—one that  _ many  _ High Lords have studied and slaved over to begin to understand it in order to lift it—and to this day it remains to be the most mysterious curse to be crafted by the hands of the Fae. 

It’s effects are simple. It appears as a thick fog, an endless dense cloud that swallows the souls of mortals the longer they linger. He personally had never heard of an instance where a mortal made it out of the fog alive, seeing as the further a person travels into it, the more they seemingly forget about themselves, their lives, the people who care for them. 

Hyojin stood in between a tunnel of cedars, peering around the trunks until he could catch sight of the mortals Yuto had warned him about. The mortal he’d seen through the eyes of. 

Then he heard it, the soft thud of a body against loose dirt. 

“Minkyun!” 

A string of curses followed in that light, luring tone.

“Minkyun! Minkyun, please you have to wake up!” 

Hyojin dared to peer around the trunk, curiosity getting the best of him. And it truly did. 

His heart pounded furiously against his rib cage, panic and a true sense of terror trying to claw its way out. 

_ Do you still see him? _

_ Who do you think he is?  _

Hyojin has lived for centuries, and not once in all of those years did he ever think he would see...him. The young man who’s been haunting his dreams, his nightmares, and his conscience for more than half a millennia. 

He was here. Kneeling in this damned, cursed fog. 

Wholly and unmistakably mortal. 


	5. sides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol im sorry this is a mess BUT 
> 
> enjoy!

Never in a million years, possibly more, did Seungjun think he’d find himself roaming a library. Voluntarily. 

It’s not necessarily because he  _ wanted _ to be there, but rather because there wasn’t much else to do other than eat or sleep. And since he wasn’t permitted to leave the walls of the palace without Hyojin or a guard, he figured aimlessly walking about the palace, studying its layout would be subtle enough to keep people’s attention at bay. 

The library itself was both massive and magnificent. Frankly, and admittedly, it would put his own family’s collection to shame.  _ Thousands _ of titles, mortal and Fae alike, lined the shelves, littering the aisles with strokes of deep greens, vibrant blues, and the occasional candlelight spine. 

It was very much like floating atop the surface of a tropical ocean, but instead of feeling light and airy, he felt as if he were drowning. Sinking and plunging further and further into a suffocating waterless abyss, only to find himself a prisoner once he reached the bottom. 

“Is there anything I can help you find?”

Seungjun startled as his head whipped in the direction of the young man that had called out to him. He appeared human, and even though Seungjun had been in Faerie for only a short while, he could tell that something much greater lingered beneath that broad build. 

“I’m a bit lost, I suppose,” Seungjun thought aloud. “Is there a section for historical texts?” 

The young man didn’t even flinch as he began to head in the direction of one particular aisle. He gestured towards the tall stacks as he said, “I don’t know what sort of information you’re looking for...but I might assume that you’ll find something useful and or interesting beginning here. If not, the next several successive stacks should offer you something.”

“Thank you…” his voice trailed off, forming a question that he wasn’t sure how to ask. 

_ Who are you? _

What  _ are you? _

“My name is Jaeyoung,” he responded, seemingly picking up on Seungjun’s implicit curiosity and formality as he folded his arms behind his back. “I am the head of this private library, so if there’s anything you might need help with, you can find me just at the back of the room.” 

Seungjun nodded in half appreciation, half understanding before he turned his attention to the great towering stack of books. Jaeyoung’s footsteps began to fade away as he ran his fingers across the rigid and smooth spines that had far from begun collecting dust. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, but it gave him some comfort knowing that he had some control in learning about the ways of the people he’d been  _ adopted  _ by, to see how their culture had developed, and to see just how far the river of their prejudice ran and bled. 

—

Three and half hours truly felt like a whole day in Faerie. He'd been sitting at a desk nearby for nearly four hours, hovering over one singular text, studying and examining every detail he could get his hands on. It was truly the rarest opportunity for a human to bare witness to history that was written  _ by  _ the Fae,  _ for  _ the Fae. 

The mortal realm prides itself for its history. A history written by the victors, for the victors, for those who’ve had everything mercilessly ripped from them. 

In the very short time he’d spent looking over the delicate pages, he could tell that Fae history wasn’t quite told in the same manner. Everything about it felt like he was walking through a very long daydream, as well as a rather telling nightmare. 

It hadn’t taken too long for him to discover  _ just  _ how old Hyojin truly was; he was much younger than most other High Lords, and it was that realization that Seungjun realized that Hyojin was no more than a mere adolescent. A young adult trying to come into his own with his future staring back at him as clear as day. Someone who had to take on too much far sooner than he most likely ever expected. 

—

_ Hyojin grunted against the struggle that came with Changyoon’s limp body weight.  _

_ The fighting wouldn’t stop. They’d been diligently holding this fort for nearly half a day as Unseelie Court Fae tried to break through the line, thus furthering themselves into mortal territory.  _

_ “Hyo…” Changyoon whimpered, clutching the side that had been struck by a rogue arrow. “Let me go. Go on ahead, they need you.”  _

_ “I won’t leave you—” _

_ Changyoon rolled his eyes, his knees collapsing, dragging both of them into the blood stained soil. “There isn’t time for you to grow soft. Those people, Fae and mortal alike, need you to fight alongside them.” _

_ “But—” _

_ “Show these Unseelie rebels what it means to go against the High Lords.”  _

_ Hyojin could only bring himself to stare. Changyoon, who didn’t want anything to do with the Fae-mortal alliance, who wanted nothing to do with war or battle ever again, was the last person in the world that Hyojin ever expected to volunteer his troops for the sake of the mortal realm.  _

_ “Show them what it  _ truly _ means to be the High Lord of Winter…”  _

_ Even Hyojin didn’t know. It hadn’t been more than a century since the title had been officially passed on to him. The death of his father brought on Hyojin’s sudden transcendence to the Winter throne, and he’d been far from prepared to rule when the pixies had brought him the news on that life altering winter evening.  _

_ Hyojin sheathed the sword that had been gifted to him by his mother, suddenly aware that he didn’t need it to win this fight. As long as it was cold, as long as it was  _ winter,  _ he’d be able to force the Unseelie rebels back into the forest.  _

_ He’d been told to never use magic unless absolutely necessary. And as he surveyed the chaos and death that surrounded them on all sides, he couldn’t have thought of a better time to unleash the muzzle that had been cinching the well of his natural power.  _

_ Changyoon himself could  _ feel  _ the land quake in acknowledgement of a High Lord’s gift, bestowed upon them by a being far beyond their reach.  _

_ “For the realm,” Changyoon mustered, choking on the words as he slumped against the fortress wall.  _

_ Hyojin shook his head. “For the truth.”  _

_ The High Lord of Winter stepped out between the rubble of the crumbling fort that had been rumored to hold against any and all invaders. He took a deep breath, reciting the incantation as he stripped his leather gloves from his fingers.  _

_ The wall was going to give any second, and he knew that if he didn’t do  _ something, anything,  _ history would pivot for the worst.  _

_ So, he placed his hand against the most solid thing closest to him and smirked as the world around them was engulfed in darkness.  _

—

It had taken a while for the truth to sink in. Hyojin had fought for the Fae, had fought for  _ mortals.  _ Despite the blood stained prejudices and the social stigmas concerning Fae tolerance for humans, recognizing them  _ as  _ human, rather than beings used for labor and pleasure, Hyojin had fought alongside them. 

_ Two  _ High Lords of the  _ Unseelie _ Court of Faerie had fought for his kind. Perhaps it stemmed from their youth, and the indifference they held against the traditional Unseelie ideals, or perhaps they were just genuine at heart...either option left Seungjun feeling conflicted. 

Hyojin had stolen him away from his home, had tricked him into making a deal to save his best friend. Unless it hadn’t been a trick after all. Hyojin had saved them both from the confines of The Dark Forest, spared them the slow and agonizing death that would have crept through the cracks of their soft minds, and would have flooded their lungs until they couldn’t even remember how to breathe. He’d gifted them a mercy that not many other Fae would be willing to bestow on them. 

The prospect of having to stay in this giant palace for however long it took for a Royal Passing to take place made Seungjun feel some sense of relief, filled like a well, deep with peace, but littered with a diluting anger. 

“I see you’ve discovered my hobby.” 

Seungjun’s head snapped in the direction of an unfamiliar voice. Just at the end of the long table, there stood a young man whose hair was as dark as night, and his features both sharp and soft. 

“No need to be alarmed,” the stranger chuckled. “I am a dear friend to the High Lord of Winter.” 

Somehow that information only made Seungjun feel more on edge. He figured that High Lords, and Fae of the Queen’s Court, were of the most dangerous, most deceptive breed of High Fae. This particular individual carried himself with an air of...mischief. It reminded him so much of Minkyun, his heart ached with the longing of knowing how he was handling everything in Pandora. 

Seungjun cleared his throat, tucking a stray piece of paper into the pages he’d gotten sucked into. “What does that make you then? To Hyojin.”

The young man flinched with surprise at the sound of the High Lord’s name spoken aloud between them. He craned his neck, almost in genuine curiosity. “I think the question is what are  _ you _ to the High Lord...for  _ you,  _ a mere mortal, to be using his given name?” 

“I am nothing to him,” Seungjun clarified. “As I am nothing to you or any other creature of Faerie.” 

The raven haired boy scoffed amusedly. “Is that so?”

“If you have something to say, then do so—”

“There’s no need to be hostile,” he interjected, wringing his hands slowly as if  _ he  _ was supposed to be the anxious one. “I’m only here to raise the white flag of peace between us.” 

“And why would you want to do that?”

“It is true what they say...that mortals are endlessly curious,” he said aloud. “If you know what’s good for you, and the young man that you and Hyojin have saved, you’ll keep that curiosity to yourself.” 

Seungjun could feel the confusion tightening the features in his face as he gazed at the young man, at what had to be a glamour. Probably one of the first he’d ever seen in his life. Unlike mortal complexion, the skin and color of the Fae was far too beautiful, far too smooth, too perfect, to be normal. The ability to change one's appearance, or enhance your appearance at will has always been a luxury that humans have craved for centuries.

“Stare a little harder and you’ll drive your gaze right through me.” 

“What is it that you want?” Seungjun pushed himself up from his chair, but couldn’t bring himself to move much further than that. 

“Who says I want anything?” 

It was Seungjun’s turn to scoff. “What High Fae, especially one of great...importance, takes time out of their day to single out a mere mortal, solely for the sake of mundane chit chat?” 

“We High Lords may be very busy, but you’d be surprised as to how much free time we are granted.” 

“You—” Seungjun stuttered. “You—You’re—”

The unnamed High Lord crossed the space that separated them. When they were likely less than a foot apart from one another, he stretched out his hand, a rather mortal gesture if he’d known any better. “Lee Changyoon. High Lord of Autumn, at your service.” 

Seungjun’s brows furrowed together as he tried to thread the words together into cohesive understanding. “Perhaps it is I that should be at your disposal, sir.” 

Chanyoon laughed something fierce. “Nonsense, boy. Hyojin might damn near throw me in the lake and freeze me if I so much ask you to lift a finger in favor towards me.” 

“And why would he do that?” 

“Remember what I said about curiosity, boy. Although the Fae are unable to lie, you’ll learn  _ very _ quickly that they like to play games of trust here.” Changyoon said, taking a single step away. “No good ever comes to people who say or ask too much. Especially in Faerie.”

“You’re asking me to trust you.” Seungjun stated plainly. 

Changyoon nodded. “For whatever it might mean, I think you were meant to meet Hyojin. Whether it be for better or for worse—”

“You know me—” A question raised at the back of Seungjun’s throat as he interrupted.

“—I intend to protect you for however long you may intend to stay in Faerie.” 

Seungjun could only blink in awe. 

“You don’t have to trust me. Truthfully, I wouldn’t if I were you.” Changyoon took a breath to think before saying, “But I speak to you now as a High Lord, and emissary to the Winter Court, not an individual. If you may ever need it, you will be allowed safe passage into Autumn territory.” 

“You knew I was coming…” Seungjun flung the accusation at him, closing the history book as he stepped away from the chair.  _ “Someone  _ knew this was going to happen.” 

“There are many things you don’t and will never understand, boy…” Changyoon shuttered an apprehensive sigh. “If you want to survive here, long enough to get home, then you’ll turn a blind eye to anything you’re told.” 

“If you’re trying to gain my trust, you are doing poorly.” 

Changyoon offered him a hesitant smile. “There will be many others who’ll try their damned hardest to get you on their side. For that’s what these courts are all about.  _ Sides.  _ Who is aligned with who. What courts rely on each other, and for what reasons that the others don’t.”

The High Lord of Autumn paced several steps back towards the door. And it was what he said before turning the corner that left him feeling uneasy. 

“Do not just assume that you’ll be able to walk out of this land without consequence…” Changyoon warned. “You  _ will _ have to pick a side, Prince of Pandora. Perhaps several. But you will be forced to choose.”

Changyoon had left him alone amongst the thousands of titles that lined the walls and aisles, along with the occasional shuffling from Jaeyoung at the other end of the room.

There was noise, there were living beings moving, coming and going from the room...and yet, it was so  _ quiet.  _ Mind numbingly, deafeningly quiet.

And it was terrifying. 


	6. lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully yall enjoy :)

_ When Hyojin came too, the world was shrouded in complete and utter darkness.  _

_ There was no mistaking the flames that were rising at different points of the battleground, spreading to whatever life it could grab hold to. Grass, bodies, the crumbling structures that had only been there just hours before.  _

_ What only felt like moments ago, he’d allowed himself to tap into a power he swore he’d never touch, never again. Even a century ago, he would have  _ never  _ guessed that it would cause destruction quite like this. Leaving only chaos and anarchy in its wake.  _

_ He could feel his heart  _ sink  _ when he realized just how quiet the fort had become. The crackling of fire against wood being the only other noise to cling to aside from the dry choking coughs that echoed around him, a direct consequence of the billowing black smoke. _

Changyoon. 

_ Hyojin scrambled to his feet, ignoring the heavy pressure forming just at the base of his spine. It was truly difficult to see  _ anything  _ amidst the smoke; it was thicker than night, with only the light from the flames reflecting off of the darkness to rely on. He pushed himself forward,  _ one foot in front of the other, _ he’d chanted to himself over and over again.  _

_ “Ch–Changyoon…” Hyojin called out, his lungs weak from the smoke. “Where are you?” _

_ The further and further he limped through this hellish nightmare, the more fearful he’d become. There was no telling how long he’d been unconscious, what had happened to the remainder of the Autumn troops, or if the rebels had either pushed back or been dealt with.  _

_ All he had known was darkness. It’s all he’d ever known since the very beginning.  _

_ “Changyoon!!” cried the High Lord. His voice cracked as he squeezed the words out, “Give me a sign. Anything!”  _

_ The pressure at the midst of his spine grew painful, until he was curled into himself in the crisp blackened grass. And without any sort of warning, the pain flew across the bridge of his spine and nestled deep in temples.  _

“Hyojin.” 

_ When Hyojin opened his eyes, the darkness remained. Not one of destruction, but one of peace. Something reminiscent of a grieving sadness.  _

“Hyojin…”

_ There was absolutely nothing to see other than the phantom outline of a young man, absolutely timeless for his age. Whoever it may have been, it was clear that he was someone Hyojin had never met before, or at least that’s what he’d assumed. His delicate features stirred no sense of recognition. The only thing he could chalk it up to was a dream—someone, or something, he’d seen in a dream long ago.  _

“Hyojin,”  _ the apparition whispered. _ “You do not yield.” 

_ The High Lord stared, long and hard, trying to process the words, what they meant.  _

“Go now.”  _ He commanded.  _ “The High Lord of Autumn awaits you.” 

_ — _

_ “Hyojin!! Hyojin, thank god.”  _

_ When Hyojin finally brought himself to open his eyes, he found Changyoon hovering, cradling him like his life depended on it.  _

_ “Where were you?” Hyojin mumbled, forcing himself to get up into a seated position. “I was looking everywhere for you.”  _

_ Changyoon sighed, perhaps with relief, perhaps with something like annoyance. “I had to help in getting the troops out of here. Somehow, your magic only lashed out and reached for the rebels. Thus, innocent lives were spared. But that didn’t stop it from spreading to the surrounding environment.” _

_ “You are a High Lord of Autumn…” Hyojin stated flatly. “You couldn’t have controlled the flames?”  _

_ “You know better than anyone that I have  _ never _ been good at multitasking.” _

_ Hyojin scoffed, “It sure is reassuring to know that you, my best friend, decided to come back for me last.”  _

_ “It’s a bit difficult to come back for you when your body is wholly encased in a dome of ice,” Changyoon countered. “I know it’s the magic’s way of protecting you from those that may want to do harm to you, but I had to wait it out.”  _

_ “How long was I under?”  _

_ Changyoon’s lips twisted as he considered the time. “It was at least several hours. Even after the rebels had been dealt with, the guard was still up. And you were just...empty.”  _

_ Empty. Just like a shell. That’s all Hyojin was, a beacon and vessel for the magic to flow through. To exert its judgement on those that did and didn’t deserve it. And there was a limit to which he could control it.  _

_ “It was the first time I’d ever seen you like that,” Changyoon continued. “Most other times, you just appear as if you’re staring. Not this time. It were as if you’d been stolen from your body.”  _

_ Changyoon helped Hyojin up from the ground, guiding his arm around his neck for support. They limped through what was left of the mortal fort until they reached the clearing, until Faerie opened up to them, and a fresh breath of air seized their charcoaled lungs.  _

—

It had been several hours since Hyojin had returned from his meeting with the Queen, and even though he knew he had a responsibility to the mortal prince, he couldn’t bring himself to face that truth just yet.

Instead, he chose to linger on the edge of the roof, as he and Changyoon had done only the night prior. He was lucky to have a companion like Changyoon, someone who was willing to face a harsh reality that wasn’t his own. One that didn’t belong to him. 

Hyojin knew who Seungjun was,  _ what  _ he was, and why all of that mattered even though it shouldn’t. And he’d asked Changyoon to confirm the suspicions that he’d spoken of the night before. The very suspicions that Hyojin wasn’t ready to admit that he also felt. 

“Are you going to leave me to babysit your guest?” Changyoon grumbled as he wedged his way through the window. “Or are you going to go down there and introduce him to this world properly?” 

“How is he?” 

Changyoon stated at him blankly with disbelief. “He’s digging, Hyo. He’s been in the library all day, sorting through the historical texts.” 

“And?” 

_ “And... _ I don’t know how much you want him to discover about us on his own before you can tell him yourself.” 

Hyojin gazed upon the moonlight garden that sat at the ground level, just below where they sat. “Did you feel anything?” 

A sigh tore through the crisp evening air as Changyoon adjusted his legs. “I could smell it before I even got within range of the library.” 

The High Lord of Winter shuttered at the confession. “It should be impossible, Changyoon.” 

“There are no rules or laws for or against something like this, you should know that better than anyone else.” 

“He’s a human…” Hyojin retorted. “It almost feels merciless to keep him here as long as I agreed.”

“You  _ both _ agreed,” reminded Changyoon. “The Fae are unable to forcefully take a human against their will. They must agree to come.” 

“That principle never stopped the rebels from trying.” 

A vague sense of understanding settled between them. Hyojin knew by saying what he had that it would be pushing them into dangerous waters. 

A conversation once had and promised to never be spoken again. 

—

Hyojin found Seungjun in the library, hours  _ after  _ he and Changyoon had stepped down from their hide away. 

_ “Be careful…”  _ Changyoon had warned him just before they parted.  _ “I will not see you killed for that boy’s incessant curiosity.”  _

As pure and light as Seungjun appeared to be, in both his dreams and reality, there was a shadow looming over him. A darkness that even Hyojin’s own blood and bones recognized,  _ remembered  _ from a time long before Seungjun’s conception. 

For he wasn’t just some mortal that he’d plucked from the edge of The Dark Forest. He was a prince,  _ the  _ prince, of the Pandorian region. The same oligarchical family that Hyojin and Changyoon fought for, fought  _ with,  _ centuries ago. He had to admit that Seungjun looked nothing like his ancestors, the predecessors that faced far worse challenges than he would have to in the future, but the air in which he carried himself was the reminder Hyojin needed. That Seungjun belonged to the land, to that family, their bloody history. 

Hyojin knew that humans lived relatively short lives, they were lucky to even have the luxuries and misfortunes that came with the span of a century, but of the many young men and women that Hyojin had the pleasure of meeting from Seungjun’s distant family history, none of them had ever lived to see fifty. 

Perhaps it was a curse. A darkness that had been bestowed upon the family who would have to pay for the repercussions of a sin committed by an older generation. Hyojin had never been able to conclude the cause, he had never been close enough with the family, or humans, to get much further than the observation itself. 

When Hyojin finally unraveled himself from his thoughts, he found Seungjun staring back at him. There was a question in those sweet soft eyes, whether or not Hyojin was ready to answer was a whole other battle. 

“What am I to call you?” Seungjun asked suddenly. 

Hyojin’s brows creased in question. “Excuse me?”

There were stacks of books, all varying in size and color, framing Seungjun’s delicate face. It was probably that feature alone that separated him from his predecessors the most. 

“You told me your name back in the forest…” Seungjun began. “But that was back in mortal territory. We’ve been in Faerie for nearly a day, and since coming here I’ve discovered that you’re not just  _ any _ High Fae. I know the power of a person’s name doesn’t apply, at least in the same manner as it does to humans, but it seems that Changyoon would disagree.” 

Hyojin inhaled deeply, his voice tight as he asked, “What did Changyoon say to you?” 

Seungjun shrugged playfully. “I figured that is also something you’d be aware of. Something you’d have further clarification on.” 

“As far as…?”

“I know a snoop when I see one,” the brunette said impartially, folding his hands in his lap. “I don’t know how the game is played on Faerie, but a snoop is a snoop, no matter when or where the game is being played.” 

For the first time in ages, Hyojin was particularly grateful for the glamour. He could feel himself paling underneath it, and he could only hope that he could maintain this sense of calm long enough for Seungjun to be convinced. 

“And you're accusing me of spying on you.” 

“Perhaps.” 

Hyojin paced forward several steps towards the table. “This is my home. These are my people. And you...you are the outlier among us—”

“And whose fault is that?”

Hyojin braced a hand against the back of a chair, a deep annoyance curling in his gut. “Am I to blame for you and your friend stumbling into The Dark Forest? Do I get no thanks or consolation for  _ saving  _ your pathetic lives, when I could have easily left you there to  _ rot?”  _

_ “You— _ you lured me here,” Seungjun protested. “You Fae and your... _ fucking  _ traps and tricks. Instead of just letting me pass through that forest and take my friend to safety, you stole me and my sense of identity and gave it to someone who wanted nothing to do with it.” 

The High Lord of Winter rolled his eyes. This was the thing about humans, they could never and would never be able to understand the complexities of Fae law and the magic. The give and take that is demanded of them, the ultimate sacrifice of themselves and others that they’d have to trade in order for the magic to breathe. 

“As I told you once...there are no such things as favors.” Hyojin scoffed, folding his hands across his chest. Slowly...he spoke, “That is what makes humans the weakest of all species. You expect something for absolutely nothing, with the expectation that you’ll be called upon to repay what has been done for you. You claim that the Fae are the deceptive ones...but look to yourselves. You take advantage of someone’s help and then never return your so-called  _ favors.”  _

Seungjun looked as if he’d been slapped across the face, a steady anger blooming in his cheeks. 

Hyojin shuttered, his confidence wavering. “From now on, I advise you to  _ think  _ before you speak. Not all Fae are as generous as Changyoon and I. The Fae that spit on the names of mortals and their way of life would do anything to get their hands on you. To drive you into the ground and make you do the most horrendous things against your will.” 

He could feel the raw disappointment burrowing where his heart should have been.  _ This...this  _ was the harsh reality that came with trying to reason with, and on occasion befriending, mortals. It was nothing more than a double-edged sword of mutual distrust. “I have welcomed you into my personal residence, have granted you access to everything I own, and have done my best to give you the space I assumed you desired. And you spite me for having my closest friend, the person I trust more than any other damn being in this cursed land, come here and see how you’re faring.” 

“Please…” Seungjun finally spoke. “Do not mistake my anger for ingratitude—”

Hyojin shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away from the mortal prince. “If you need anything, call upon the attendants and they will bring you whatever you may need. If you need to get a message to me, Changyoon, or anyone else, Jaeyoung can get you in contact with someone that can help you.” 

“Hyojin—”

He didn’t want to listen to Seungjun scramble for his poor mortal excuses. They had excuses for everything, even when they figured they’d run dry of them. Instead, he dipped his head toward Jaeyoung in farewell, passing through the doors of his personal library and onward toward the strongest bottle of whiskey Changyoon had in his collection. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twt // @ LIGHTSJ00N


	7. ripples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my heart yall...im just thinking about future chapters and the way my heart is just gonna hurt even more tbh.
> 
> I hope yall enjoy this filler. lets be honest, that's what this is.

Nearly a week had passed since Seungjun watched Hyojin storm from the library. Even Changyoon hadn’t bothered gracing the young Pandorian prince with his snarky comments and snooty persona. 

He’d even walked off the grounds to see if either of them would come running, giving them probably their only chance to scold him to hell. But neither of them were anywhere to be seen, as if they’d been suddenly plucked from the Earth and completely relocated from all the madness. 

No one breathed a word of their disappearance. The handmaidens. The guards. Jaeyoung. Even Yuto, who had been introduced to Seungjun when he tried to get a message to Hyojin, just to see if he would reveal himself. It’s as if they’d left without a trace and told no one where they were going or who they’d be with. 

Initially, Seungjun figured that Hyojin was being petty, or happened to be feeling conflicted about the way they’d parted on his first day in Faerie. He assumed the steam would blow off and simmer into nothing after a couple of days. But it had been a week now. A full week. Seven days and six agonizing nights, most of which he spent on the library researching what he could about the culture, how it varied and compared with mortal customs. He would take any information he could, especially if he was expected to survive here until a royal passing. 

Jaeyoung did his best to help. Clarifying ideas and practices that were confusing, distinguishing the differences between High Fae and the creatures that made up the lesser. And in the process, he’d learned that Jaeyoung was much more like him than he assumed. A halfling. Someone who was half fae, half human. And it was in that moment that Seungjun realized that he was relieved to finally have someone who understood what it was like to be a human trapped in a land that would never be able to cater to the needs of mortals. 

The average mortal could never eat food prepared by the Fae. Seungjun learned quickly that magic was at the root of  _ everything,  _ even the meals that were prepared. He’d eaten all of one meal on his first night, and for the remainder of the night he felt as though the world had been ripped away from him. Everything had been blurry. Warm. As if he’d had far too many glasses of wine. And even when he’d come down from whatever magic had been leached into his blood, he had spent the rest of the night in a daze. Nausea pinned him to the sheets of the bed. He could barely move an inch without the horrid reminder of bile climbing up his throat. 

The days following he’d felt heavy with regret. Regret for not taking the time to learn about how food was prepared. For not taking the time to think before he spoke. For impulsively lashing out. For being naturally curious about what the world had to offer. But mostly, for assuming when he shouldn’t have. 

He had been angry,  _ was  _ angry. He figured any person would be, but over the last week he’d finally come to understand that Hyojin truly had spared them. That he could have simply left them for dead in the middle of those woods, but instead he offered them an opportunity. An opportunity to live. An opportunity to learn. To see a new perspective of the world that neither he nor Minkyun ever thought they’d have the chance to witness for themselves. 

—

Minkyun didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he’d showed up at the front gates of Seungjun’s family manor, all he knew was that  _ this _ was not it.

It had been a little less than a month since Seungjun had reluctantly agreed to go to Faerie, and in that time it felt as if a whole year had passed. 

He thought just by knowing Seungjun that that would be enough to get him through this seemingly endless trial. There would be no forgetting the embarrassment the first time he came face to face with Seungjun’s father, barely able to speak more than two sentences in front of the elder. 

From that moment on, he’d spent countless nights reading what he could, studying the contents of Seungjun’s surprisingly spotless room, the books he kept, journals he’d written, maps that lined the walls. Anything he wasn’t familiar with, he acquainted himself with quickly. 

One thing he hadn’t taken lightly after all of these years was the fact that Seungjun’s freedoms were a whole other kind of restrictive. They’d met up so many times in the past that Minkyun began to assume that perhaps the ruling family didn’t necessarily care about how Seungjun was spending his time outside of politics, outside of the walls of the manor. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Seungjun, who always appeared so free spirited and in a daze of happiness, had been hiding the cruelties that came with freedom. Or lack thereof. 

Minkyun learned very quickly that Seungjun had been accustomed to a schedule of sorts. There were lessons for nearly every hour of the day. History. Strategies for Battle. Sword fighting. The number of categories seemed perfectly endless. If he were even a breath late to any of them, there was hell to face in consequence. 

That first day he’d been instructed of his schedule by one of the many attendants, Minkyun was sure their ruse was surely going to be discovered. He figured the lecturers were going to ask many more questions than they actually did, figured that the sword’s master was going to comment on his suddenly poor technique (that was until he learned that Seungjun was a terrible swordsman to begin with). Thus, somehow, by the grace of the gods, he made it through those daily lessons just by the skin of his teeth. 

The first month of many had been exhausting. Physically and mentally. It was almost as if a thunder cloud had been trailing him through the halls that he shouldn’t have been allowed to walk. Stalked him in places that he once assumed would be private spaces. Sometimes he could hear the roll of the thunder in the back of his mind, steadily waiting for it to roll closer and closer until he couldn’t make out the words of the whispering handmaids. That was the worst part, knowing that the thunder was lingering in his blood and veins, and there was no telling when it could strike. 

It made him wonder if Seungjun had spent all of those hours outside the manor just to have the chance to escape all of the uncertainty, so that he could have at least one moment of peace. Those days they spent together, whether it was amidst the heaviest of rains, or the brightest summer day, it damn might very well have been the only light he’d ever been able to experience within the harrowing darkness. 

—

_ “What’s it like?” Minkyun once asked. “Living in the palace.”  _

_ They’d been dangling their legs over the edge of a waterfall’s cliff. It was a place Seungjun had discovered one day after slipping away from a punishment he didn’t deserve.  _

_ There were many things he wanted Minkyun to know about palace life. The horrible and the better, the dark and the gray. There didn’t seem to be enough words to explain just how complex the system was.  _

_ Seungjun sighed blissfully, conflicted. “It’s a game. An impossible riddle. A puzzle that’s missing it’s key pieces.”  _

_ In more ways than one, Seungjun looked like your average commoner. His features were soft, simple, completely and wholly...ordinary. Even on that first day when they’d seen each other in the streets, Minkyun didn’t even think twice—but perhaps it was because his attention had truly been elsewhere.  _

_ “In the palace—the manor I suppose—you’re a different person. You have to be,” Seungjun said, his voice getting further and further away. “To be yourself is to be uncouth. At least that’s what we’re told. But I know better. Me. My parents. We are no more royal than the rest of the country. Merely some common folk whose ancestors had climbed their way up the ladder into power. We all must start from somewhere. Everyone has an origin.”  _

_ Minkyun couldn’t help but stare as the delicate summer breeze pushed Seungjun’s bangs across his pale forehead. And it was in these small mundane moments—the transitions through life and self—when Seungjun looked the most princely. His commoner noble blood glowing with the humble ignorance that all royals carried.  _

_ “What does it take to get through it?”  _

_ Seungjun glanced in Minkyun’s direction, his expression unreadable. “Everything. It takes everything.”  _

_ They looked deeply into one another. Their truths. Their desires. The gap between the two. The abyss between themselves. What could and could never be.  _

_ The young Pandorian prince was the world's biggest dreamer confined to his own genie lamp. A slave to the country, to the people, an heir to be sold off to the highest bidder of the seven noble families. And Minkyun wanted to give him the world, wanted to show him what was out there, to assure him that the  _ world _ is not simply Pandora.  _

_ “What if I asked you to leave with me?”  _

_ Seungjun blinked once. Then twice. And Minkyun knew the elder had made his decision based on the way his smile faltered. Disappearing in the same way the sun set almost immediately after the golden hour passed.  _

_ “It’d be so simple...to say yes that is.” Seungjun chuckled, but there was no mistaking the sadness behind it. “Something’s always got to give, Minkyun. The repercussions will ripple out once the stone is dropped into the water.”  _

It had taken Minkyun nearly four years to understand what Seungjun meant. It took his whole world practically turning itself upside down for him to recognize that Seungjun had always been right. 

A good reason to go was an even more tragic reason to stay. And for Seungjun it meant giving up the freedom he’d only ever got to experience in dreams, meant sacrificing true friendship, love, and heartbreak. 

He remembered the way his chest caved in when Seungjun had chosen to remain stagnant in his position, had chosen to stay despite all of the reasons that urged him to pack up and go. And Minkyun had never been observant enough to realize that he wasn’t the only person who’d been hurt by that very decision. 

His best friend had foreseen his chance to grab hold of a lost opportunity and willingly let it fade into a forgotten memory, a dreamscape of childish desires. 

_ “The reward will never outweigh the cost, Minkyun…”  _ he’d said.  _ “There are...too many things I’m not willing to risk.”  _

Four years. 

It had taken four years for Minkyun to realize that Seungjun had always meant them. 

Their friendship. 

Him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twt // @ LIGHTSJ00N 
> 
> happy fsd!


	8. loyalty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay here we go yall

“Hyojin!” Changyoon cried out. “Wait for me. Come on!” 

If there was  _ anything  _ Hyojin hated more than planning for the Winter Solstice, it was having to do all of the planning and overseeing the preparations with Changyoon. 

“Oh good  _ gods _ , Hyo. There’s no reason to be upset about a little singe to your coat,” he complained as he finally caught up. “I promise to buy you a far nicer one for the Solstice.”

Hyojin stopped at the edge of the lake which borders either side of the Autumn and Winter courts, acting as a barrier to keep their residents from crossing. The lake itself has gone unnamed for generations. The High Fae of both Autumn and Winter unable to compromise despite their mutual heritage. Thus, it had been left untouched, a decision left for future generations to banter over. 

“I don’t know how you’re going to replace a  _ rare _ Winter silk, made  _ in _ the Winter Court, considering that you only come into Winter perhaps six weeks of the many.” 

Changyoon scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously as he stepped into Hyojin’s peripheral vision. “Then I’ll, you know, just buy it the next time I come to Winter.” 

Hyojin couldn’t help but laugh. He was sure as hell that Changyoon couldn't even begin to fathom how much fabric of such quality cost. Especially in Faerie, where everything is nearly quadruple the price in comparison to the mortal realm. And since the Queen’s capital fell within Winter Court jurisdiction, that in and of itself drove the price up much more. 

By no means did Hyojin consider himself rich either. Hyojin knew what it meant to have absolutely nothing, knew the feeling of having to go hungry several nights in a row, having to embrace darkness in places he once found comforting. He knew better than to make the foolish mistake of assuming that the money locked away in the vault was his own. He may have a front row seat to all of the Court gossip, but a person’s position does not define their wealth, or lack thereof. High Lords inherit  _ everything,  _ whether the title is usurped or appointed, and there was  _ much  _ to gain. 

Titles. Riches. Knowledge.  _ Information.  _

Yet, none of that matters if one's connections are not esteemed. All creatures of Faerie I brought into existence learning that money gets anyone anywhere in life. Over the years, he’d learned that the deeper your connections, the greater your trust and instincts, the richer you become. 

And after living a life being kicked into the dirt, Hyojin had crawled up, climbed his way up the ladder until he was seated securely at the top with the Queen sitting in the palm of his hand. 

But at a price, of course. A steep one. 

“Earth to Hyojin!!” 

The redhead peered through the glimmer of his glamour to where Changyoon was waving his hands in front of his face. 

“Yes, sorry.”

A disapproving look fell across Changyoon’s face as he shook his head. “You're always spacing out like this.” 

“Can you blame me?” He countered, his fingers fidgeting with the emerald cufflinks just at the base of his wrist. 

“I suppose I can’t. I mean, I know you’re always like this, but especially so as the Winter Solstice approaches.” The High Lord of Autumn shrugged, a curious but knowing look etched into his eyes. “Are you expected there for this year’s Solstice as well?” 

Hyojin took a deep breath, holding it in as long as he possibly could. It was almost a painful reminder of what little control over himself he was bound to have in several days time. “I’ve been going there ever since I was appointed to this position. It’s part of the deal.”

Changyoon made a noise of disapproval. “Just for  _ once _ could she actually let you enjoy the longest night of the year getting completely and totally drunk with your best friend?” 

“You speak as if you were a mortal.” 

“Oh gods, no. Never.” Changyoon cringed. “But...this  _ is  _ the first year in quite a long while that a human is going to be an official guest of the manor.” 

Hyojin ran a hand through his hair, a deep sense of frustration and perhaps embarrassment flushing his cheeks red under the glamour. 

And it wouldn’t be Changyoon if he wasn’t the first to notice those very nervous ticks. With an ounce of disbelief, he gasped. “She doesn’t know…she doesn’t know, does she?” 

“I’m afraid not,” Hyojin admitted reluctantly. 

“You of all people _ , of  _ all  _ beings,  _ should know that she’s going to destroy him when she realizes that he’s here.  _ With you.”  _

He knew Changyoon was right, knew what he was really trying to say between the breaths that he likely spared on the subject. But deep down, Hyojin wanted to believe that everything was going to turn out differently. It was the very reason why he’d forbade Seungjun from stepping foot off of the property, why he’d confined him to the manor and the attendants that were just as confined as him. 

“You really think people aren’t going to find out about him? That  _ she’s  _ not going to find out?” Changyoon huffed in frustration. “You are not the Hyojin I’ve known for all of these years if that’s what you truly believe.” 

“Can you please just—”

Changyoon took two long strides until he was close enough for their noses to nearly touch. His voice was lethal, _calm_ when he said, “I told you, Hyojin...that I will not see you killed in payment for some pathetic human’s life.” There was a long pause between heavy angry breaths, but after an equally long moment, he continued. “We, _you and I,_ chose to protect one another. We have seen our way in and out of battlefields, have brought each other back to one another when deceit disguised as magic infected us. _I_ have seen you wipe out an entire army of rebels with my own eyes, _I_ lived to tell that tale because you deemed me and my troops worthy of your trust. A _deep, instinctual_ trust. I lived with those memories, _nightmares,_ locked up for centuries. I have always thought you a reasonable and the most honorable of the High Lords. Please, for all that is good and true, _please_ don’t not let me regret living in your shadow.” 

“You are the High Lord of Autumn,” Hyojin stated matter of factly, trying to camouflage his frustration for...anything but. “You are _my_ equal in every way. And _yes,_ I have let you see more of me than perhaps I should have allowed anyone to see, but I didn’t so knowingly. Sparingly. Because of the _thousands_ of Fae that inhabit these courts, you were always the only person who saw me for who I really was, who I really _am._ You dedicated your loyalty to a cause you’ve always been impartial to, put your trust in me to lead us through hell and chaos to protect the mortals in the mortal realm when no one else dared to. I promised to protect you, and you I. And I intend on keeping that promise.” 

Changyoon scoffed dismissively. “Then why are you doing this? Why couldn’t you  _ just _ include me in the decision making  _ for once?  _ You had to have known what sort of consequences that you and I would face in this when you made that deal in the forest. So, why?  _ Why are you doing this?”  _

“I—I couldn’t just let them  _ die  _ in there…” Hyojin admitted. “After all of this time, after everything you and I have been through, when have you ever known me to abandon anyone? Mortal and Fae alike. For  _ gods’ sake,  _ I spent over a century defending the lines of the mortal territories. I slaved over what was supposedly right, what was inherently wrong about it. And even then I came up with nothing. To this day, I have no internal reconciliation for turning my back on the traditions of the Winter Court, on the people I’m supposed to call my friends and family, my kin. What I do know is that a life  _ is _ a life, Changyoon. Is it so terrible to want to spare an innocent life in the wake of eternal darkness?” 

“And what of the rebels?” Changyoon sneered. “What of their lives?” 

“ _ YOU FOUGHT AGAINST THEM!”  _ Hyojin snapped. “You knew deep down in your bones that what they’d done to mortals, to Fae, to halflings, to  _ anything  _ that crossed their path, went against everything the Court stands for. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you joined me, so don’t you  _ dare  _ scorn me for making a tough decision.” 

“You cannot save everyone, Hyojin…” Changyoon admitted defeatedly. “This is the natural order of the world. One that not even you can stand against.” 

And as much as he wanted to retort, to defend his decisions, there was no arguing with death. A fate that was sealed for each living thing. And for mortals especially, there was no use in outrunning a future so clear and sure by bartering with some higher power for more time. Because there would never be enough of it. 

Time will run dry. Will come to a complete and lulling halt. Now matter how much of it is allotted, the last grain of sand will always fall. 


	9. solstice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhh I’m sorry this is just poor writing on my part, but it gets across what I wanted to say.
> 
> Tw// very brief implications of sexual abuse

Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year and frankly the most beautiful. And yet, it was just another painful reminder that Hyojin would have to forgo the celebrations for another year, as well as many more to come. 

“Dear High Lord…” the Queen, Mab, drawled from her place on her ridiculous luxurious sofa. “How is it that you simply get even more handsome with each visit to my humble home?”

_ Humble, my ass,  _ he thought. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Your Majesty.” 

“Don’t be so modest,” she scoffed, standing from the cushions and walking over to where he was gazing out the towering french windows. When she was close enough, she wrapped her arms around him from behind. “It’s no secret that you rival each of the other High Lords in such a manner.” 

Hyojin shuttered. “Please don’t do this.” 

As if his body had suddenly been pulled by a pair of strings, he turned away from the window and was met with the Queen’s piercing gaze. She purred, “Don't do what?” 

He tried to resist, willed every muscle in his body from leaning into her. But they’d been through this  _ hundreds _ of times, and each time it was the same. 

“On this night each year I ask you to be my king consort,” she whined almost desperately. “And each year still you come bearing the same answer.”

“You  _ insist  _ on it when you know this is not what I want.” 

Desperate tears welled in his eyes. His desire to consume a whole bottle of liquor began to flutter uncomfortably in his chest, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get through this without it. But, he knew that there wasn’t anything more important than escaping the Queen’s clutches with his mind and body intact. Even if his body felt relaxed, felt fuzzy from the liquor, she would make sure his mind would be left intact. She would force him to remember, and the place where his heart should have been would ache for days at the memory of it. 

He would do it, he could. Nearly four centuries had passed and he figured that someday he would get used to it. 

It was very clear that someday was not today. 

—

Seungjun watched the festivities with Jaeyoung from the roof of the High Lord’s palace. The very same High Lord that refused to show his face in nearly two weeks. Perhaps this had been Hyojin’s plan all along, to bring him here and dump him on his own doorstep like forgotten trash. 

The Pandorian prince turned to Jaeyoung, who was watching the elemental performances in awe. “Why aren’t you down there with the rest of them?” 

Jaeyoung’s eyes snapped in his direction, but there had been no other genuine reaction than that. Surprisingly, Jaeyoung chuckled. “The Winter Solstice, the festives, the antics, and joy...that’s all for  _ them.  _ The  _ fae,  _ the High Fae and lesser. Why do you think we are here, watching from afar?” 

“It’s unfair,” he sighed. “That we must remain separate like this.” 

“We remain separate from each other to maintain the peace.” 

And it was then that Seungjun realized that they were no longer speaking of the party, but of the ways of the world. The Fae,  _ Faerie,  _ the Unseelie Queen of Air and Darkness and her Court, have roamed these woods, these continents for millions of years. Far longer than the creation of humans and the chance they’d been given to compete for survival.

“They say—the fae that is—that the line drawn between our worlds had come at the cost of a High Lord’s life…” Jaeyoung stepped away from the edge and settled in his spot on the other side of the firepit. “He’d been the first High Lord in an age to suggest the lucrative idea that the mortals should be left to their own devices, that perhaps their lives are equally to those of the Fae. The Court, the remaining High Lords, eagerly protested his proposition, claiming that the mortals are and always have been the weaker species. Beings that are meant to serve those who are so clearly above them…”

Seungjun wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, his eyes burning uncomfortably as he stared into the fire.

“That High Lord was also a High Lord of Winter,” he continued. “He’d fought for the mortal-fae alliance, far before the current High Lord. And it was because he fought  _ for _ the mortal realm that the other High Lords of his time decided to make an example of him. The Dark Forest, The Forbidden Wilds, it has usurped hundreds of mortal names...but its purpose remains the same. A trap, a lure for mortals who are both dumb and brave enough to mistake it for just  _ any  _ forest.” 

“What did you mean? That the other High Lords had made an example of him?”

Jaeyoung stifled a laugh. “You don’t think the fog in the forest is natural do you? Even so, that toxic fog is bound with  _ dark _ wicked magic. One that requires a sacrifice. And only a combination of all the High Lords’ magic could bind a parasite that powerful.” 

Seungjun couldn’t help but feel dumbfounded. He’d spent his whole life believing such stories were just that. Stories.  _ Legends _ told to keep children from wandering into the forest, from crossing a border they’d never be able to come back from. Everything he’d been told as a child, suddenly and strangely confirmed in a place he never dared to dream of. 

“The new generation of High Lords could technically undo it, couldn’t they?” 

“The High Lords of Faerie have spent much of their lives trying to comprehend and understand how their predecessors managed something so...complex.  _ Monstrous.  _ They went against their own to maintain their prejudice. The magic itself runs deep in the blood of their forefathers, which leads me to believe that only that very same magic could lift what had been done all of that time ago.” 

The young prince slouched in disbelief. “I thought it had only been a myth. A tale. After all of this time.” 

Jaeyoung raised his glass in Seungjun’s direction, ice clinking against the glass as the amber liquid sloshed to and fro. “There is always an ounce of truth in every story, kid. Unfortunately, this one is drowning in it.”

—

When morning finally came, a deep breath filled Hyojin’s lungs as he stormed from the palace. He barely made it past the entrance doors before he willed his magic to take him home. 

It happened as quickly as blinking. One moment his eyes were shut and once they were open he found himself in the foyer of the castle in the Winter Court.

_ “Hyojin!” _

Changyoon rushed through the hall towards him, almost spellbound by the High Lord’s sudden appearance. 

“What are you still doing here?” Hyojin’s brows furrowed in question. “I would have assumed that—”

The Autumn High Lord threw his arms around Hyojin, silencing him just long enough to say. “Welcome home. I’m glad to see you.”

Hyojin exhaled into the younger’s shoulder, the tension in his body unraveling under his touch. With what energy he had left, he mumbled a soft declaration of gratitude. 

“Are you tired? Do you—”

With all of his might, he wished that he could remember what Changyoon had asked next. 

_ “Hyo!”  _ Changyoon cried, voice muffled as if his head had been submerged underwater. 

—

_ Hyojin. _

_ You do not yield. _

You _ do not yield. _

_ You do not  _ yield. 

—

It didn’t matter how many times he’d dreamed of Seungjun meeting him in the eyes and proclaiming those four words over and over again. All he knew was that the apparition was wrong.

_ You do not yield.  _

He couldn’t have been more wrong. 


	10. seafoam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually kind of like this one. 
> 
> I hope y’all enjoy <3 dedicated to kami & wjc

The arrow tore through the air. Seungjun’s initial intention was to go for the target’s forehead,  _ through  _ it, and at first he thought he’d succeeded. After Jaeyoung’s close examination, it turned out he’s struck the left eye. 

“Nice shot…” a distinctly familiar voice murmured. 

Seungjun nearly dropped the practice bow in surprise as he twisted to find Hyojin leaning against a pillar closest to the exit, furthest from him and the edge of the raised platform. 

His deep ruby red hair, while still red, seemed much darker than usual in the gray overcast light of the late morning. Seungjun had learned to differentiate between glamours, how to spot them, recognizing the points in the facades that were heavily touched up and others that weren’t. Changyoon’s glamour was as obvious as peak daylight, the way his hair glistened with darkness so  _ perfect  _ that Seungjun would have been a fool to overlook it. 

Hyojin’s glamour, on the other hand, was so deceptively flawless that Seungjun assumed he’d always been seeing the truth. It was hauntingly natural, as if he were looking at a mere reflection of someone  _ like  _ him. Like Jaeyoung. 

That was until he’d overheard Changyoon, the only suspect to return after his week-long absence, discussing glamours with another High Fae of Autumn on the eve of the Winter Solstice, and what changes he may want to make for the upcoming year. He talked of Hyojin’s faux persona as if it were nothing of the sort. 

“He’s only ever changed his hair…and sure he refines the features of his face just a hair,” Changyoon had said. “But he’s probably the only high lord in  _ history _ to not change everything completely.” 

Seungjun had learned early on that the Fae were not the sentimental type. Nor were they vain, at least in the same manner as mortal nobility. They didn’t keep photographs, didn’t commission portraits. Thus, there wasn’t much of anything to confirm what Changyoon had said was true. Only his word and the attendants. 

“Hyojin—” Seungjun lowered the bow, strapping it across his torso. 

“I’ve heard you’re quite shabby with a sword,” Hyojin interrupted. Suddenly feeling exposed, Seungjun turned away as the embarrassment crept into his cheeks. “But it seems that your talents actually lie elsewhere. They say that those who aren’t born to handle the weight of a sword tend to have much lighter hearts, thus they require weaponry that won’t weigh them down.” 

Probably confused as to why the barrage of arrows had halted, Jaeyoung stepped onto the platform, taking in the realization of the High Lord’s presence. “High Lord. Welcome home. I expect that your trip was a pleasant one.” 

Hyojin’s lips twitched until they steadied, unfolding into a half-hearted grin. “It was. Thank you. Did you two have a chance to enjoy the festivities at all?” 

“Not much to enjoy when you’re locked up in the house,” Seungjun muttered.

“Of course, sir! The performances were spectacular this year if I do say so myself!” Jaeyoung exclaimed, matching the timing of Seungjun’s comment perfectly. 

“And what brings you two out here this early in the day?” 

_ Technically,  _ the firing range was on the property,  _ and  _ Seungjun figured that if he was accompanied by Jaeyoung, then he would escape some form of scolding. He was tired of being locked up, he’d spent the first twenty-four years of his life being shoved into a cage. It was exhausting, having your existence snuffed out like a fire that has burned too bright for too long. He needed to  _ breathe,  _ needed an opportunity to live before it was too late. 

“I just needed to get out,” Seungjun admitted before Jaeyoung could speak up and contradict the truth. “I just couldn’t stay in that house any longer. I’ve been locked up long enough.” 

Hyojin could feel the tear ripping through his phantom heart. He knew the prince didn’t  _ just _ mean the two long weeks that he’d been in Faerie. There was a story there, deep beneath the surface of those delicate features, and even though Hyojin could feel his curiosity stirring, he knew better than to let it get the best of him. 

Trust was not given lightly in Faerie, especially for the Unseelie. Mortals were far easier to convince, far easier to deceive. It was child’s play in comparison to the effort that needed to be made in establishing trust with another fae. And even though Seungjun was mortal to his very core, the manner in which he protected himself and carried himself was much more Fae than he likely realized. 

“And where would you go?” Hyojin pondered aloud, pushing himself away from the post he’d been leaning on, taking slow steps forward toward the mostly mortal coupling. “If you weren’t bound to your title, that is. Where would you go? Who would you be?”

Seungjun had spent years worth of time contemplating exactly that. If this had been another life, another time, would he have been like Minkyun? A poor commoner’s son who was merely passing through life doing what he loved most? 

Who, or  _ what,  _ would he be?

Would he have been Fae? Been an equal to Hyojin or Changyoon? Deceptive. Handsome. Natural power sitting in the roots of his being. Some days it was tempting, but whether or not it was some _ thing _ he wanted to be was something else entirely. 

Most other times, Seungjun wondered if he would just get to peacefully linger in nature. Perhaps as a north westerly wind, or a young kitten that was both curious and terrified about the way the world beyond its species worked. But most of all he wanted to be  _ of _ the ocean, like the sea foam that washed up on shore after a long harrowing journey, ready to be at peace. Soaked up by the warm sand as if being embraced by the warmest of hugs, something he didn’t know much about. 

And after contemplating all of that, after so much time had passed in his life, the commonality between them was clear. 

Seungjun cleared his throat as his gaze met the High Lord’s. 

“What would you be, sweet prince?” 

His gaze flickered between Jaeyoung and Hyojin, as if the answer suddenly hadn’t been so simple. 

But he shuttered a breath and simply said, “Free.” 


	11. star crossed. ill-fated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading this on a computer would be ideal! but I hope yall enjoy nonetheless.

˚ . · ✫ 

✺ · ✹ ⊹ 

\+ 

⊹ 

  * . * 



✦ 

.

The Prince of the Realm. 

To Pandora. 

A slave to the land. 

It’s people. 

It’s gods. 

It’s culture.

It’s history. 

  
  


* ✵ * 

✫ · 

✵ · 

  * * ✷ ˚ 



✵ · . 

✦

The High Lord of Winter. 

A slave to the land.

It’s people

It’s Queen. 

It’s culture. 

It’s history. 




⋆ ✷ 

˚ ✫ 

. 

* ˚ * * . 

✷ .

  
  


They were much more alike than either of them ever cared to admit. 

  
  


˚ · * 

. · . * . * . 

  * * 



. * 

✺ . ✺


	12. reveal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright we are back on track!! sorry about the filler for the last chapter. 
> 
> dedicated to wjc as per usual 
> 
> love you guys I hope you like this!

[One Faerie Year Later, Five Mortal Years Later]

Changyoon always believed that the mortal realm didn’t suit him. For one, the weather was abhorrent, and his clothes felt much too heavy and coarse against his Fae skin. 

It was true and known that the air in Faerie was much lighter than the mortal realm, laced with magic to rid the environment of the impurities that could cause damage to it. That was the beauty of the world, or at least that world he was familiar with. 

The Fae did whatever they could to maintain the balance between their environment and the magic they unleashed upon it. Their relationship was symbiotic; they needed one another to uphold the other. The Fae’s abilities are drawn from that of nature, the rivers that flow from the mountains and down through the valley between Spring and Summer, the fuel of water and fire to bring life back into what is claimed to be dead in Winter and Autumn. 

To give is to take. And to take is to give. The Fae take from nature, and in return, the Fae use their gifted magic to protect it. 

The same sort of magic didn’t apply to the mortal realm, beings that believed that they could hone their own sense of  _ magic _ through technology. Changyoon found it laughable, but he wouldn’t be the first to preach that humans were far less capable, regardless of how hard they tried. 

It has been just about a year since Seungjun had joined Hyojin at the Winter Court, and since mortal news doesn’t travel easily in Faerie, this meant that Changyoon would have to do the begrudging work to determine the status of the Pandorian royal family. He’d been asked to check every few weeks, which was roughly a couple of months in mortal time, and every time he came into town there wasn’t anything new to discover. 

Seungjun’s parents were still alive and well, and the faux prince had seemed to adjust to his role impressively well. Or at least he was doing a rather convincing job that he had everything under control. 

When Seungjun had first arrived in Faerie, Changyoon had sent an Autumn attendant to gather whatever information they could from Seungjun about his mirror image. Many things about the interview had been relatively surprising, such as the prince’s lack of reluctance in conveying the information, as well as the truth regarding the prince’s friend. 

A commoner. The prince had taken the liberty of befriending someone so far beneath him and managed to maintain that friendship for this long, had willingly abandoned the only security he’d ever known to follow the shadow of uncertainty that had been thrusted upon him for someone of such little worth. 

Friendship is such a fleeting thing. One minute there, gone the next. To discover a  _ true _ friendship was rare, in both Faerie and in the mortal realm. For friendships were all about tests, the test of whether someone will be there for you when you need them most, will be there when everything isn’t necessarily shining brightly. And perhaps  _ thi _ s _ ,  _ a friend sacrificing everything they’ve ever known for a friend, will be the test that will determine Seungjun and Minkyun’s path. 

Like any other day in the mortal realm, Changyoon had to craft his glamour to be anything but. To look mortal was the easy part, but what made him clumsy was maintaining the glamour without letting it slip between the cracks of his fading concentration. Maintaining his identity as a mortal was perhaps far more exhausting than it was to be an emissary to all of the other Courts of Faerie combined. 

Today was no exception as he roamed the carts and stalls of the shopping district. Not that he needed any of the junk they were selling, nor did he have the proper funds, but mostly because there wasn’t much else amusing enough to keep his attention focused on his appearance. 

One stall in particular, however, always drew his attention whenever he managed to make his way to the end of the alleyway. A young couple manned a rather small booth, and to any random stranger just passing by, it would look like they were selling simple fabrics. But the truth was far from that, seeing as each of the glistening silks and satins were the product of Fae hands.  _ How _ they managed to get their hands on such precious items,  _ that _ is something Changyoon has been attempting to discover ever since Seungjun arrived. 

“You have a keen eye for finery…” a familiar voice drawled from behind. 

Changyoon’s brows furrowed, he knew that voice better than any other of the Winter Court. When he turned to meet the voice, he found exactly who he’d been expecting. His brows arched in faux surprise, a feline grin reaching his lips. “Finery such as this is nothing more than flattery sewn into silks.” 

The Autumn High Lord extracted himself from the busy alleyway, seeing as this wasn’t a conversation for prying ears, and strolled as far as he figured it was safe to walk. Whether or not his sudden and surprising companion followed suit, he couldn’t be sure with these god awful human ears. 

“What is a High Fae doing in the mortal realm?” That  _ cursed  _ voice...Changyoon had gotten so used to hearing it that it should have been such a simple confrontation. But it wasn’t. It was far from it. 

Changyoon dropped the hood of his cloak and turned to meet the gaze of the Pandorian Prince. 

Or at least his impostor. 

Whatever magic Hyojin had woven on this poor commoner boy nearly a year ago, Changyoon could see right through it. The contours of his distinctly different features, the greater height that he had on both him and Seungjun, but it was the hair that was inconsistent with Seungjun’s testimony. What once was supposed to be deep raven black hair has somehow faded into a messy hodgepodge of different shades of blonde and brown. 

Changyoon could feel a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “I would ask you how you’re able to tell, but I think I know the answer far better than you think.” 

The wannabe prince’s confidence faltered at the remark, but he still managed to dare a step forward. “State your business.” 

Five years. Minkyun had been gifted over years of practice in many things his parents may have never been able to teach him. Foreign negotiation.  _ Strategy _ . And somehow his skills were severely lacking. 

“I’m afraid  _ you _ are my business, my dear princeling.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Changyoon waved his hand casually between them, dismissing the curiosity all together. “Since we both clearly have some things that need to be said to one another, should we at least say what we have to say face to face?” 

Letting the mortal glamour slip away was as simple as blinking, breathing, walking. It slipped away as if he’d shed his clothes like a snake shed its skin. And even though Changyoon decided to maintain his Fae glamour in place of his actual self, he was still showing a more truthful version of himself. 

“That’s much more comfortable. Don’t you think?”

Minkyun hesitated at first, but there was no mistaking the distraught confusion that struck his features when he beheld his real face in the window. 

“I guess you’d gotten used to seeing a face that doesn’t belong to you…” Changyoon sighed, studied his nails just so he could have something to look at other than Minkyun. “I mean, it’s okay to admit that you’ve become comfortable in your foster life—”

“What did you do?” Minkyun interjected. “How–how did you just...make it go away?” 

_ “Gods…”  _ Changyoon cursed. “And I thought the prince was curious. I see why you two are friends now.” 

“You’ve seen Seungjun.” Minkyun said aloud, letting the sudden realization sink in. “How is he?! Is he okay?!”

“Woah,  _ woah… _ lets just address the elephant in the room first.” The annoyance in his voice had to have been so obvious, the awkward air between them could cut the tension like a blade. “I’ll answer whatever questions you have after the fact.” 

The younger squared his shoulders. “What do you mean  _ I’m  _ your business? What would a High Fae like you have anything to do with someone like me?” 

“Well...seeing that you’re the fill in for the boy, his life here, what you do and say, everything becomes my business.” 

“And have I done something wrong for you to single me out like this?” 

Changyoon shook his head, he could feel a smug amusement sitting in his gut. “On the contrary, you’re doing a wonderful job. I’m sure the kid would be proud of you.” 

Minkyun ran a hand through his hair, most likely a nervous tick much like Hyojin’s. “So, what do you want?” 

“Nothing.” 

_ “N-Nothing?  _ Then why—”

Changyoon rolled his eyes. “I’m only here for a routine check up. I only observe from afar to make sure that everything is going well on the High Lord’s behalf. And, you know...the kid too. I never once thought that  _ you _ would single _ me _ out. This was a wrench I wasn’t expecting to reveal this early on.” 

Minkyun looked as if he were at a loss for words, completely unsure if the situation at hand were reality or some twisted mind game. 

“I’ve seen all I needed to,” Changyoon said, simply turning and waving in farewell. “I’ll see you in another two months.” 

_ “Wait!”  _

_ Dear gods…please have mercy.  _ He thought. 

“He’s okay right?” Minkyun asked. “You can tell me that at the very least I hope.” 

Changyoon sighed, craning his neck to look back at the prince lookalike, the cocoon that Hyojin had crafted swallowing the commoner whole again. “He’s safe. You have nothing to worry about. I’ll let him know I spoke to you.” 

An eerily familiar look of gratitude fell limp into those anxious features. “Thank you.” 

The High Lord shrugged, offering yet another gesture in farewell. Sealed with a wink, he grinned. “Two months, princeling. Let’s see who will be the seeker next time.” 

And in all of a heartbeat, the wind had engulfed Changyoon, sending him far into the space between this life, this world, and the Fae. 

When he opened his eyes, he was in Faerie. In the Winter Court. 

And when he saw Seungjun and Jaeyoung sitting on the front steps of the Winter Court palace, laughing together over gods knows what, his cold heart sank. 

Not for himself. Not for Seungjun. 

But for Minkyun


	13. spiraling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy

If it weren’t for the calendar on the wall, and the attendants that served him, Hyojin would have lost track of time all together. 

For the last year, he’d kept himself confined to his room whenever he wasn’t being called upon for Court politics. There were only a  _ very  _ few select people allowed into his chambers, limited mostly to the High Lords of the Courts and his personal attendants.

Seungjun had called upon him many times, had even gone as far as summoning Yuto to pass on a message. It was interesting really, that a human of such caliber and status was willing to sink so deeply for companionship.  _ Friendship.  _ A prince to a realm that believed in the sincerity of friendships, and treated those friendships as beacons of trust. 

If only Seungjun could see just how blind he truly was to the world. There were many things Hyojin felt he could teach him, could show him that the true beauty and grace of the world wasn’t in the emotional connections between individuals, but the genuine nature of humanity. Humans could only manage the good in their lives, acting completely blind to their imperfections until chaos comes knocking at their door. 

And it had always been  _ this  _ that set apart Faerie from the mortal realm. And it was this difference that mortals detested, labeling the Fae as nothing more than monstrous beings who cared for nothing but themselves. In reality, it’s the very reason as to how the Fae haven’t turned against each other, why there hasn’t been a single internal war for  _ ages.  _ The unspoken harmony of the Fae was their lack of ignorance towards each other, each of the courts, the flaws and everything else’s in between. They noticed it all and were far from timid when it came time to speak up about the things they truly disliked. 

They were a people that were cursed with honesty, brutal and sheer candor. By the gods, they’d been cursed to never tell a lie. At least once in their lives, each Fae has tried their hand at bluffing, and each time they were met with the resistance that grabbed at the back of their throat. It’s the very reason the Fae had learned to  _ adapt _ into their tricks and schemes. Word play. Riddles. Whatever the mortals liked to call it. 

They weren’t lies. Never lies, seeing as it was physically and spiritually impossible. Rather, a truth stretched so far and wide that a senseless doubt remains in its wake. 

“Are you ever going to see him?” Changyoon had asked one day in particular over the phone. “Or are you just going to leave him standing at your doorstep like an animal that’s been kicked down?” 

“You speak as if his attachment to me is deeper than it is.” 

“Hyo—”

“He doesn’t know me,” Hyojin continued, ignoring the High Lord’s protest. “He knows nothing other than the facts that he’s gathered about the glorified version of me in the history books. From Jaeyoung. If he’s truly that naive, then his heart has tricked him into being curious about a version of someone who doesn’t exist.” 

Changyoon sighed. “That person  _ is _ you, Hyo. The person recorded in the history books is  _ still _ you. Perhaps you aren’t the same version of yourself, but those books were written by Fae hands. The truth is all we know.” 

_ “Deception,” _ Hyojin corrected. 

“The facts are facts, regardless of however history has been twisted,” Changyoon emphasized. “You are the High Lord of Winter. You are the second High Lord in an age to go against everything we’ve been taught by the Elders. It isn’t the minor details that define you, Hyo, but the actions which you took to defend those that matter.” 

It was conversations like these that made Hyojin feel like Changyoon was a stranger. Perhaps it was because he’d always been stuck between a rock and a hard place. His own father, a traditionalist in every sense of the word, tried his hardest to instill the prejudice that most Unseelie men lived by,  _ ruled  _ by. But then Changyoon had met Hyojin, and his whole worldview had been turned upside down. He’d always been caught in the middle between two very drastic extremes, two very distinct paths with even more distinct consequences. And it was clear that his High Lord counterpart was struggling to hold onto one or the other, instead he was clinging to both for dear life. 

Hyojin had been reading through some documents that had been prepared for post-Solstice affairs, when Yuto had poked his head through the door. 

“Yuto.” It took a moment for him to realize that it was Yuto at the door, but he stood when the realization settled. “What is it? How can I help you?” 

“A message from the High Lord of Autumn, sir.” He extended his hand, a thin envelope nestled between his fingertips. 

Hyojin rolled his eyes. “Gods…I know this man knows how to handle a phone. What is the occasion for such dramatics?”

He peeled back the wax seal and unfolded the thin parchment. And he had to read the message over and over again until he fully understood.

_ Our impostor prince has discovered me.  _

Hyojin’s eyes tore from the page to where Yuto remained standing. “Is the High Lord  _ in _ Autumn?”

“He’d just arrived in Autumn after his arrival here in Winter—”

“In Winter?” Hyojin interrupted. 

Yuto nodded in confirmation. “He’d winnowed from the mortal realm into Winter.” 

“So why didn’t he just bring the message to me personally?”

“I couldn’t say, my Lord.” Yuto bowed briefly before dismissing himself. 

Hyojin had suspected that Minkyun would have his guard up. There was no way the Fae were going to let him wear the guard of their magic without confirming that the magic was being maintained in the mortal realm. 

Magic wasn’t mindless. It needed to be tended too for as long as it was being projected. It was often mind numbing, exhausting, and Hyojin surprised himself daily that he’d managed to maintain it for this long. Especially since he’d kept himself separate from the mortal realm for this long. That was the real reason Hyojin had asked Changyoon to keep tabs on the faux prince, to make sure that the magic was being upheld properly, and to report if it was fading in any way. 

He picked up the phone from the receiver and dialed the number he knew by heart. 

And it seemed to ring for ages before Changyoon managed to answer. “Did you get my love note from our dear friend?” 

“What do you mean he discovered you?”

“Well,  _ shit,  _ hello to you too, grumpy…” Changyoon sneered, and Hyojin was sure that he was rolling his eyes at him. “It’s my day to do a routine check on the kid. I’d gotten in early and was making my way through town, the kid ended up recognizing my glamour.” 

Hyojin could feel the way his eyebrow twitched with surprise. “He’s never seen you before, how could he notice a glamour he’s never seen before?” 

“Because of you.” 

_ “I beg your pardon?”  _ he scoffed, switching the phone from one ear to another. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Hyo.” Changyoon groaned. “Come on...once you see a glamour for the first time, it’s hard  _ not  _ to recognize one. They both saw you in The Dark Forest that day. Besides, it has nothing to do with the individual who wears the glamour, it’s the magic of the glamour that embeds itself into a person's memory. You of all people should be aware of that.” 

Hyojin dug his knuckles into his temples, trying to force away the dull headache he could feel growing there. “So what does this mean?” 

“It means nothing.” 

One heartbeat. Two. Then three. He was sure Changyoon was either going to say that he was joking or continue with whatever he was intending to imply, but neither of those things happened. And Hyojin couldn’t tell if he felt horrified, dumbfounded, or both. 

_ “And?!” _

“And nothing. Hyojin, all this means is that Minkyun is aware of our presence. He probably always has been. It doesn’t change the deal, doesn’t change that Seungjun is here, or that Minkyun is substituting his absence. So what? He noticed a High Fae in the marketplace. There are worse things he could have come across.” 

Hyojin knew he was right, but for whatever reason something still bothered him. The unnerving sense of dread churned in his soul in the same way the ocean waves stirred in the eye of a hurricane. There wasn’t anything he could do to calm that storm, it would merely continue to wreak havoc until it’s time would pass. 

“Hyo, are you okay?” 

He shuttered a sigh. “I don’t know. Listen, I have to go.” 

The phone was already down against the receiver before Changyoon could offer any sort of protest. He threw the doors open, startling the guards that stood on either side, and stormed down the hall. 

All he could do was follow his instinct, he didn’t know where it was leading him, but all he knew was that he couldn’t stay cooped up in that room any longer. 

After a while, it felt as if he’d been walking in circles. Endless spirals that made time morph all around him. For one minute, it had been late afternoon and by the time he’d glanced through the windows, night had fallen like a blanket over a sleeping giant. 

His magic sang in his blood, burned like a scalding brand against cold skin, like the lashes of his father’s whip against his virgin skin. 

And the panic swelled, squeezed him so thoroughly until he was sure his lungs were going to collapse. 

_ Hyojin.  _

The voice was distant,  _ fuzzy,  _ as if someone had shoved cotton on his ears, but his feet wouldn’t stop. 

_ “Hyojin!”  _

_ “Hyojin! Stop!”  _

Then, just when he thought he wasn’t going to be able to stop, he came to a sudden halt. When he came too, he found Seungjun there with his arms around his waist. 

“It’s okay,” Seungjun had said. “You’re okay. Whatever it is, everything is going to be okay.” 

Hyojin’s eyes welled with tears, tears of frustration, anger,  _ sadness.  _ With what little energy he had left, he asked, “How? How could you possibly know that?” 

Seungjun pulled back, pulled away, leaving the space between them cold. The mortal hugged himself as if trying to maintain the warmth that was slipping from his grasp. 

“You are the High Lord of Winter, Hyojin…and you yield for nothing and no one. Even to yourself.”


	14. give and take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don’t know what happened to this chapter, it started out pretty good but then went down hill real quick but OH WELL LOL

Hyojin sank to his knees, Seungjun following suit with him. 

“Jaeyoung, phone Changyoon if you can, please?”

The academic didn’t so much as nod before taking off down the hall towards the nearest phone, and if Hyojin had enough energy to dispute the request, he would have. 

“Are you alright?” Seungjun asked as he turned back to face him. 

Seungjun’s hands lingered at his shoulders, a weight of comfort reminding him that he wasn’t lost. That he’d never been lost in the first place, but rather roaming amidst that of which was both familiar and unfamiliar. 

Frankly, Hyojin wasn’t sure how to answer the prince’s question. He wanted to trust Seungjun, wanted to explain that there was nothing but darkness lingering in his soul, wanted him to understand that there were violent,  _ thrashing  _ tidal waves throwing him around like seaweed that had come to reach the surface, and there was no telling when he’d be pulled back under. 

But there wasn’t any trust, he’d been very thorough in sustaining his neglect. That was the thing about the Fae, they trusted too little. Not to be petty or to be narrow-minded, but because they were prideful. For far too long, they’d lived in a world divided, not just between the mortals and the Fae, but internally. The Seelie and the Unseelie. The monsters and the devils. He’d been thrusted into the world of Court politics at the ripe age of twenty five, and it was from then on that Hyojin realized that the weight of trust meant nothing if there was imbalance. 

“Where did you go?” Seungjun tried instead. 

Hyojin lifted his gaze to meet Seungjun’s. “Nowhere.” 

Seungjun’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, and since Hyojin could see the protest growing in his features he continued by saying. “It’s as if I’m walking nowhere. It’s dark, and endless, and even though there’s a light guiding you along, there’s truly no end in sight. You just keep walking, and walking,  _ and walking,  _ until there’s nothing left.” 

“Nothing left of what?” Seungjun asked, scooting away until he was sitting against the wall. 

“Of the magic that he’s been hoarding,” a familiar voice answered. 

Hyojin and Seungjun followed Changyoon’s voice to where he stood with both Jaeyoung and Yuto. 

“Hoarding?” Seungjun blurted out. 

Changyoon rolled his eyes, taking several slow steps forward until he was standing adjacent to the High Lord of Winter. 

“Changyoon,  _ don’t.”  _ Hyojin demanded as he scrambled up from the floor. 

“Shut up, if he doesn’t hear it from us he’s going to  _ read _ about it somewhere—”

_ “It’s none of their business—” _

Changyoon huffed. “Well I’m  _ making  _ it their business!” 

“I forbid—”

_ “Kim Hyojin…” _ The High Lord of Autumn spoke softly. His voice was just above a whisper as he said, “Be silent. Be still.” 

And it was then that all protest stopped. Hyojin’s body went slack as if every muscle in his body relaxed under the weight of the High Lord’s words. A puppet under the control of his puppeteer. 

“Make no mistake,” Changyoon said. “This is not something I do often.  _ Especially  _ to another High Lord.” 

“The Power of a Name…” Seungjun realized. “Will he remember all of this?” 

“Of course.” Changyoon chuckled, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t like to do it. It’s a cruel way to live, even if it’s just for a few minutes. You are mortal, but you also possess this sort of power in Faerie, boy. I caution you to be smart with it though, and to be conscientious of using a person’s true name. It looks like fun and games, looks as if it’s an easy fate to bestow onto someone, but it’s far from it. It’s truly a hell like no other.” 

Seungjun picked himself up from the floor and dared to step close to Hyojin, he looked as if someone had finally told him to be at peace, as if all of his worldly and unworldly tethers had been unbound. It scared Seungjun to think that even though he appeared content, it was rather the contrary. What was he feeling? If it was anything like what he’d just witnessed as Hyojin paced around the house, he would rather see the High Lord freed from his internal imprisonment. 

The Pandorian Prince stepped away, suddenly uncomfortable. “What happened to him? Earlier.”

Changyoon scoffed. “For as much time as you spend in that library I would have already assumed that you’d read about or at least heard of magical burnout.” 

Seungjun’s eyes flickered to where Jaeyoung stood across the room, the halfling merely nodded his head, almost as if he were agreeing with the High Lord. 

“Many mortals believe that our magic is...infinite. That it is as expendable as our lifespans, and that it could never do any harm to the person who commands it. There are Fae that enjoy using their natural gifts, relish in it and what makes our species unique. But that’s not the case for everyone. Once, I didn’t even think that Hyojin could go a single day without tapping into that well that lingers deep inside him, but it seems that I was wrong.” 

Changyoon snapped his fingers, and before Seungjun could even blink, they were seated in the drawing room, with either High Lord sitting at the heads of the table. 

Hyojin remained silent and still as Changyoon had commanded. It was eerie—as if Hyojin’s soul had been snuffed out with only the shell of his person remaining. 

“I know that Hyojin’s been keeping himself relatively closed off from the world for a while now. I didn’t think it meant that he’d stop using his magic for this long, especially since he’s connected to Minkyun’s glamour.” 

Seungjun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So, if he’s technically still using his magic, even if it’s only a little bit, then why the burn out?” 

Without any hesitation, Changyoon said, “Because he’s not using enough of it. Frankly, Hyojin’s one of the most powerful High Lords I’ve ever met. And he wasn’t even born into a line of High Lords, but appointed the position by the Queen once his predecessor died. Where he gets his power, or how he manages it, is beyond me. It’s a secret that has never revealed itself to either myself or Hyojin. At first, I believed all of that power to be a gift. I’ve never seen anything like it,  _ Faerie  _ has never seen anything like it, and it’s something that damn near  _ any  _ High Fae would kill for. Yet, not too long after Hyojin and I finally agreed to trust one another, I realized that the magic has always done more harm than good—to Hyojin and anyone who steps in his path when it’s unleashed.

“It’s terrifying really…seeing what that immense power does to him. It turns him into something he’s not, something like an empty shell of a person, the soul completely carved out so that the magic can take its place. Even if it’s just for a short while.” Changyoon shifted in his seat, his eyes glued on Hyojin, who sat across from him. “The magic...it’s consuming him from the inside out. The same could be said of any Fae that doesn’t use their magic for an extended period of time.” 

The realization struck Seungjun like an arrow to the chest. “It literally drives you insane. If you keep the magic bottled up for too long it begins to take over its host.” 

Changyoon nodded, and only seconds later Hyojin sucked in a breath so deep that Seungjun thought he’d screamed. 

The High Lord of Winter lunged from his seat to the opposite end of the table. “Changyoon,  _ you motherfucker—” _

“Okay, okay, let’s not get violent,” Changyoon started. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Hyojin grabbed a fist full of Changyoon’s collar, pulling him up from the seat until he was standing. “You promised you’d never do that again. You  _ promised _ me.” 

“It was prompted,” he countered. 

“Why? Because I wasn’t going to tell a mere mortal the truth?” 

Changyoon brushed away Hyojin’s touch as if it were nothing more than flicking away forgotten lint. “Why are you so reluctant to show a  _ mere mortal  _ the truth? Where is the Hyojin  _ I  _ know?” 

Hyojin’s gaze flickered to where Seungjun was slowly rising from the couch. He wasn’t proficient with deciphering human emotion, but he knew pain when he saw it. There was no dismissing the silent hurt Seungjun clearly felt as a result of his own distrust. 

The prince tugged at the lapels of his blazer, clearing his throat as he bowed. It was the faintest gesture, but both High Lords knew what it meant, what Seungjun was throwing away in bending to the Fae hierarchy. 

“I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me…”

Changyoon stepped around Hyojin as the mortal prince passed through the door. “Wait. Seungjun—”

But the door clicked shut softly as Seungjun’s footsteps faded. 

—

Seungjun tore through the castle, past servants, handmaidens, and attendants alike. He would have thrown the front doors open himself if it hadn’t been for the guards that somehow knew of his presence before he did. 

_ A mere mortal. _

There was no stopping the desperate,  _ frustrated _ , angry tears that skimmed his cheeks as he passed through the midnight gardens and into the dense border of trees that led him straight for the nameless lake of the Unseelie Court. 

The fog was  _ thick _ . His poor human eyesight betraying him in ways he expected, but had forgotten after all this time. 

And it wasn’t until he was knee deep in the bone chilling water of the lake that he realized what he’d done, the promises he’d broken. He should have known better to expect anything from the High Lord’s, especially Hyojin. 

After a whole year of living in this mind numbing hell, he was tired of wading through this life as if he had voluntarily submerged himself deep into the darkness of his own ignorance. He’d spent countless hours scavenging through Hyojin and Changyoon’s joint library, hoping that someone other than Jaeyoung would grant him the liberty of expanding on the knowledge that was limited to page and text. Black and white.

He was tired.  _ Exhausted,  _ really. 

His knees gave out, and he was sure that he’d scraped them as mortal flesh hit jagged rock. Chest deep in Fae waters, he let himself cry. Let himself lament the life he’d lost, the life he’d forced onto someone he deeply cared for. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself that he’d gained so much by coming here, a new reason to doubt that optimism would make itself known. 

He thought if he acted like it didn’t matter, then it wouldn’t. His feelings would merely cease to exist, just like Hyojin. Like Changyoon. Yuto. Jaeyoung. 

But they didn’t. 

So, instead of pushing himself deeper into denial, he screamed.  _ Wailed.  _ Tore his fists through the freezing water. Let his soul whimper and shriek until there was nothing left. 

Would anyone  _ ever _ trust him? 

_ Anyone?  _

—

The Regional Prince of Pandora, a mere mortal, willed himself to close his eyes as he floated at the edge of the murky, black lake. He shuttered a breath he’d been holding for a while, which caused a chill to ripple through his muscles. 

_ Hyojin, you do not yield.  _

_ You do not yield.  _

That’s what he’d heard, what he’d seen in his dreams every single night for nearly a decade. It’s what he’d said just hours before as he pulled Hyojin from his hellish nightmare. 

“You do not yield…” Seungjun mumbled between chattering teeth, a stray tear slipping from the corner of his eye. 

It was clear that Hyojin was destined for something far grander than the walls of the Faerie Court. Whatever it was, the gods had bridged their paths through these dreams. Perhaps it was a mere coincidence that they had the opportunity to meet in the Dark Forest, that he found himself here living through a tangible deja vu that his dreams portrayed. 

Or perhaps fate was cruel by bringing him here, succumbing him to darkness he feigned ignorance to for this long. Brought him here to guide Hyojin onto whatever ambiguous path his dreams were trying to convey. 

Fate had a plan. For him. For Hyojin. For Faerie and the mortal realm. 

And either way, it meant Seungjun would have to bend.


	15. the lake.

_ Hyojin had never seen ice sparkly quite like this.  _

_ He wasn’t sure what had happened, where he’d been taken in the middle of the fight. One moment he was surrounded by chaos, the clashing of steel blades ringing in his ears like white noise, the grunts and moans of men on both sides who’d been mercilessly struck down. _

_ The mortal alliance was going to lose the fort, there was no fighting power quite like that of the Unseelie Court, and they were no match for them, even with the help of its High Lords. So, Hyojin had reached out with whatever power and energy he had left to expend and begged it to save them. Beseeched and prayed that the monster that lay dormant in his soul would answer him, crawl out of eternal darkness and into the flames.  _

_ The rebels had been right at the doorstep, when the world went cold. His magic rushed through him like a violent coursing river until it had nowhere to go but  _ out. 

_ There was something welcoming about the darkness that had lunged for him, had taken him captive in his own body. Not in the same sort of captivity that came with the Power of a Name, but  _ this _ felt like he’d been lured in, invited to step into its space. As if he were merely a living conscience being held hostage in a much grander beast.  _

_ Whenever it decided to make an appearance, he would be shoved away into something like a dream. He would no longer be in touch with his body, his thoughts and memories, only to be left alone in a barren wasteland completely engulfed in ice and snow.  _

_ But it was serene. More beautiful than Faerie could ever be—and it was perhaps  _ this,  _ wherever he’d been encaged, was what he truly believed the Winter Court to resemble. A beacon of beauty, encased in ice so delicate and bewitching that it could tug at the heartstrings of even the most fowl human beings. It was a reminder that even the winter season had beauty and elegance to offer, that it wasn’t all just darkness and malice, that it too could be something special.  _

_ “You’re back!” The familiar brunette figure called out from atop a glacier point. “I didn’t expect to see you this soon.”  _

_ “I guess I needed the magic a lot sooner than I anticipated…”  _

_ The young man chuckled, sliding down the smooth ice to meet Hyojin at his level. “It’s been a year since we’ve met like this, anyways. Compared to all of the decades in between, this is like we met yesterday and are seeing each other again today.”  _

_ Hyojin sighed, fog briefly clouding his vision. “I see you everyday, whether it be here, in sleep, or the random pains I get in my skull.”  _

_ “That only makes one of us then.”  _

_ “And why  _ is  _ that?” Hyojin wondered, displacing the soft powdery snow with the sole of his shoe. “Why is it that only I am able to see you?”  _

_ The apparition hummed in contemplation. “There is a bridge between us, where it starts and where it may end is unclear, and perhaps that is where the answer lies. There is no doubt that we are connected, but there’s no telling where that connection ends. I could be connected to you, you could be connected to me, or perhaps it’s mutual. I don’t think there will ever be a way of knowing how all of this is inherently possible.”  _

_ “So you can only see me when I’m summoned here?” _

_ His counterpart nodded in answer.  _

_ “What about when you’re out there? Out wherever you are in this endless world?”  _

_ “I don’t see anything. For me...this is nothing more than a dream. I am not here, but there. Outside of this dream, I wonder who you are, if what I see and feel here are real, or if it’s all just a grand illusion that allows me to experience a true sense of freedom from the burden of my existence and what I’m supposed to represent.”  _

_ “So you are real,” Hyojin blurted out, eyes flickering to his familiar stranger. “Living and breathing somewhere amidst the billions of people and Fae.”  _

_ Another nod in confirmation.  _

_ “What are you?”  _

_ His lips twitched upward in an amused smile as he said, “To you? I am nothing but a mere mortal.”  _

_ Hyojin could feel the confusion straining in his features. “Then...how are you here? How is all of this possible when you do not possess an ounce of magic?”  _

_ “I couldn’t say.” He stated plainly. “All I know is that I’m here, and so are you.  _ Why _ we are here,  _ what _ has brought us together, are questions I may never have the answers to.”  _

_ The High Lord turned to  _ really  _ look at the stranger. Someone he’s never met, but felt deep in his blood that he’s known this man for a lifetime. “Who are you? What is your name?”  _

_ The questions hung between them like a moment stopped by time. The young mortal frozen in place like a statue lost to time.  _

_ Hyojin knew the magic was wearing thin as the world around them began to crumble, the young man merely fading out of his dream and back into reality.  _

—

Seungjun wasn’t sure how long he’d been floating in the midnight black lake. 

He’d lost all sense of feeling in his body hours ago, his whole body completely numb with anger, with frustration, and perhaps the freezing water that swallowed his limbs. 

_ “Seungjun!!”  _

The name was muffled by the water hovering around his ears, but he slowly lifted his stiff neck from the water at the sound of it.

“Seungjun! Where are you?!” 

The prince sighed, a puff of steam rising above him as Yuto and Changyoon’s voices got closer. 

“Do you think he— _ oh my god.” _

_ “Seungjun!”  _

The water lapped around him, pushing the cold water up into his face. Seungjun gasped as Changyoon pulled him up. 

“What the  _ fuck _ are you doing?!” He bellowed. “We’ve been looking for you for  _ hours!”  _

“Are you okay?” Yuto asked, his voice much softer than the High Lord’s. 

Seungjun tried to stand, but his muscles were far too stiff to be able to stand on his own. “I’m okay.” 

Yuto dived forward, catching Seungjun by the arm at the last second before he could fall back into the water. “We need to get you back to the palace.” 

The Autumn High Lord stepped in front of them. There was no disguising the pure raging anger that was written in his face, his body language. “Care to explain what you’re doing in the lake? Do you even realize what sort of magical properties this lake has?!” 

“Magical properties?” Seungjun squeezed out through chattering teeth. 

“That is not important now.” Changyoon spat. “You couldn’t have stayed at the edge of the lake? Why did you have to get in?” 

Seungjun sighed. “Mortal emotional impulse, I suppose.” 

He knew it was the answer Changyoon wanted to hear, knew it would further deepen his prejudice against him, but it was also the only real answer he had. 

The High Lord reached across, his fingers wrapping around his wrist, and it only took him half a heartbeat to realize that they’d been moved to the front of the Winter Court palace. 

“Make sure he gets dressed before Hyojin or anyone else sees him,” Changyoon instructed Yuto, who could only nod as they began to ascend the stairs. 

“What did he mean?” Seungjun asked as they climbed. “That the lake has magical properties.” 

“Frankly, there’s not enough literature on it to understand.” Yuto stated calmly as they rounded the corner just before his bedroom. “The water is said to have an effect on the Fae that have tried to consume it. Each reaction has been different from the last, and we don’t know how it may affect a mortal.” 

His bedroom already had a fire burning for him, and Yuto set him before it as he shuffled through the drawers for a change of clothes. 

When Yuto returned with an arm full of clothes, he kneeled down close to him and said, “From now on, I caution you to do as the High Lords say, or any of their attendants.”

It must have been the clear question that had been written on his face that prompted Yuto to continue after placing the clothes in his lap. “You do not want to make an enemy of the High Lords. Especially those of the Unseelie Court. I’m sure you’ve read or heard about the nature of their personalities. I’m saying this as someone on the outside, I see the people who care for you, and have started to, you do not want to see those people turning their affections into something that could potentially harm you.” 

Seungjun gathered the clothes as Yuto excused himself. 

It had taken a while to peel the soaking wet clothes from his body, but he was grateful once they were off and the replacements were on. And even though he could feel hunger sitting in the pit of his stomach, he couldn’t bring himself to walk downstairs into the dining room. He was too tired to fuss with diluting the magic that was laced in the food, too tired to think of a menu that would satisfy that raw hunger, but most of all, he wasn’t prepared to meet Changyoon’s disappointed glare if he were to cross his path. 

Instead, he crawled into the giant bed that had never felt like his to begin with. And even though his body was beginning to melt under the thick covers, his heart felt as if it had been hollowed out. 

There was nothing to feel, nothing but the iciness of the water that had christened him anew. 

Perhaps the lake had stolen his heart, had actually done him a favor by gifting him the emptiness that he needed to survive in a place like Faerie, like the Winter Court. 


	16. shells.

Given everything that had happened in the successive days prior, Changyoon had made the executive decision to stick around the Winter Court. 

At least for as long as it would take Hyojin to burn off the excess magic that was beginning to burst in his veins. Magic that threatened to push past barrier after barrier to force its way into reality. Changyoon knew what was waiting on the other side of that serpent, the internal conflict and temptation that came with it, and if he could do  _ anything _ to keep the beast from rising once more, he would.

The first time he’d seen Hyojin completely overtaken by his vast well of power, Changyoon almost couldn’t believe that the myths and legends of magical burnout had been true. All of his life he believed them to be baseless rumors, nightmares, deceptions. Until Hyojin. 

Everything about that day seemed perfectly…normal. They’d been in the practice range for the first time since the rebels had officially announced their fatal declaration of war on the mortal realm, and Hyojin had been particularly serious about making sure they were ready for whatever the Unseelie rebels had planned for them. 

Hyojin had already expressed his desire to side with the mortal realm, would have been willing to lay down his life to make sure they live another day, and was rather insistent on honing his skills in a vast number of weaponry to avoid relying on his magic. Magic was too unpredictable of a weapon to wield, even for a Fae that was confident in their abilities, even for a High Lord. For it wasn’t the wielder that had control of the magic, at least not wholly. 

Magic was to wield and to be wielded. To give.  _ To take.  _

A privilege disguised as birth right. 

Changyoon had agreed to help him hone his archery skill, never mind the fact that his strength has always been hand to hand combat. Fighting at a distance requires a patience that his fiery soul couldn’t tolerate, but for once, on that particular day, he didn’t mind just sitting back and counting the seemingly endless strikes in the targets. 

He’d been sitting at the opposite end of the field when it happened. If he hadn’t glanced up from whatever he’d been doing, Hyojin’s arrow would have speared straight through his skull. 

_ “Hyojin! What the fuck!”  _ He’d cursed. “You know what sort of punishment you would get for slaying another High Lord?!” 

And it was the absence of  _ any  _ snide remark that raised the red flag. 

Within a breath, Changyoon was atop the platform and Hyojin stood there, completely and utterly still as if he was frozen straight through. His bow had been haphazardly discarded onto the worn wood platform, his sheath of practice arrows still draped between his shoulders. 

“Hyojin…”

The Autumn High Lord dared to step into Hyojin’s line of sight, which now felt naive for him to believe. His emerald green eyes had been dilated so intensely that they appeared to be swallowed by twilight, a darkness so dense and terrifying that he presumed it to be the work of a demon. 

“H–Hyo??” Changyoon tried, hesitant. He reached for the High Lord’s hand, fingers barely brushing his fingertips. “Are you—”

It only took one breath for the world to become cold. 

The natural born residents of the Winter Court were blessed by nature with the privilege to manipulate, water,  _ ice,  _ in its natural state. And over the years, Changyoon has seen  _ many _ displays created by those of the Winter Court, knew the signatures and markers that could evidently help him in identifying its citizens if necessary. 

_ This,  _ on the other hand, whatever it was supposed to be, was nothing like Changyoon had ever seen before. A shell of ice had appeared, after a sudden cold front had sent him flying across the platform, cocooning the Winter High Lord wholly. It was thin enough for Changyoon to see even the finest details of Hyojin’s face, but what terrified him the most was that seemingly empty gaze. He just stared and stared, endlessly, infinitely, as if time itself had slowed to a halt. 

Ever since that day, Changyoon had spent years worth of time in his head, in the library trying to understand what sort of power had possessed Hyojin. It was the first time in his long lifespan that he’d seen  _ any  _ High Fae become completely encased and consumed by their own power. It was no secret that the High Fae could be driven to madness if they retained too much of their magic for a long period of time. Perhaps it was merely a way for nature to punish the Fae for harboring too much of what wasn’t theirs in the first place. Changyoon had seen it happen a handful of times, to people he knew, people he considered himself close with. There were even times that he could feel his blood beginning to churn, buzzed with what seemed to be the inevitable. 

But what he saw that day, with Hyojin, his magic, it was nothing he’d ever been familiar with. 

Seeing Hyojin beginning to descend into madness again was the primary reason Changyoon had decided to stay. Yet, it wasn’t just that. 

It’s been several days since he and Yuto found Seungjun floating in the lake that bordered the Autumn and Winter courts, but it’s also been several days since Seungjun has deemed them worthy enough to even be seen. He rarely stepped out of his room, rarely came to dinner when the announcement was made, never stepped into the library. Even Jaeyoung had contested that he hadn’t seen the prince wandering about the palace at any point during the day, not unless he truly needed to be out. 

“What do you think happened to him?” Changyoon wondered aloud. 

Jaeyoung, who had been sitting across the desk from him in the library, frowned, but continued to flip through pages of a book all the same. “Given the lake’s long history, and all of the instances that have been reported because of it, he’s probably been affected by its magic.” 

“There’s no definite way of knowing what’s happened to him though.” 

“There isn’t?” Jaeyoung asked, a hint of dry amusement lingering between the words. “You’ve known him for a year, my Lord.  _ I  _ have known him for a year. We all have. This behavior, whatever it is, isn’t normal. I know the prince is used to being confined to one place, but he won’t even leave his room. It’s not normal to walk by the door one day, a tray of food sitting at the foot of the door, and to see it again the following day completely untouched.” 

Changyoon folded his arms atop the desk. “Maybe the lake has made him sustainable.”

“That…that is complete bullshit and you know it.” 

He shrugged. “At least I’m throwing ideas out there.” 

Jaeyoung sighed, lifting his eyes from the pages for the first time in nearly an hour. “You want to know what I think? I think something’s been stolen from him. I don’t know what it is, but this isn’t Seungjun.” 

“Stolen?” Changyoon asked, hoping that the librarian would expand on it. 

“There’s no telling just how long Seungjun stayed in the lake. It had to have been hours at the very least.” Jaeyoung stated plainly. “From what I’ve read, the Fae that have seen effects due to contact with the lake have all experienced widely different things. My only concern is how the magic may be infiltrating a mortal body. We are more so familiar with the effects of the food on mortals, but this lake...it’s a beast. A living thing that preys on its victims by giving or stealing something from them.” 

“So, you think in the kid’s case that something has been stolen from him?” Changyoon leaned forward on the desk. “If that’s the case, precisely what is stolen? Is it part of the soul? Something from their weak hearts? Or perhaps their minds?” 

Jaeyoung could only shrug. “It’s a magic far beyond any of us. Even the High Lords. It would be a miracle if anyone was able to discover the root of its power.” 

Changyoon huffed in frustration. “I don’t have the answers that the universe is looking for, but I  _ do  _ have an idea.” 

—

It had only been a month since Minkyun had seen the High Lord in town. He’d snuck out when he shouldn’t have, but he could feel his curiosity pulling at him, as if there were a string tied to his core, tugging him forward towards uncertainty. 

He found it a lot easier to sneak out in the evenings after all of the schedules had been completed, once everyone had been safely tucked into their private suites. It was the only time Minkyun was able to go into town, revel in a slice of his life that now felt foreign. 

Once, it seemed like nothing to see a group of young men and women stumbling out of a nearby pub and onward towards home. Or taking an evening stroll along the cobblestone paths that inevitably would lead you to a dead end, the Dark Forest, or the palace. But it was what he saw along the way that made him feel nostalgic. The food carts, stalls for purchasing produce and spices, finery that has travelled far and wide to be splurged on. Now, he realized that everything that had once been so normal, so mundane, suddenly became a luxury. 

Tonight, he’d come into town on a hunch. Not because he needed an escape from the place, or because he wanted to check on his family from afar, but because deep in his core he could feel that string tugging and yanking at him to go. The moment he stepped into town, the air had felt different.  _ Charged.  _

“He’s here…” Minkyun spoke softly. “He has to be.” 

_ “How could you tell?”  _

Minkyun startled at the familiarity of that voice practically whispering against the shell of his ear. He jumped away, turning to find the High Lord waiting there. 

“Well, hello there, princeling.” 

“I was right…” A rush of disbelief stormed through him even though the High Lord stood before his very eyes. “What—what are you doing here? It hasn’t been two months.” 

Changyoon laughed bitterly. “You speak as if I can’t come here whenever I please. I am just as free as you.”

“Why are you here?” 

The High Lord frowned, even in the dimly lit center of town he could tell. “Gosh, you’re always so cut and dry, the both of you. Anyways, I’m here because I need your help.” 

_ “You.”  _ Minkyun blurted out, a subtle question curling at the end of the word. “You. A High Fae. A High  _ Lord.”  _

A roll of the eyes. “Is it so hard to believe that there are things that mortals can do that the Fae cannot?” 

“And what price am I to pay this time?” 

Give and take. 

“Your discretion,” Changyoon said matter of factly. “I need you to come with me to Faerie. And upon your return, I only ask that you do not speak of anything you see or hear there.” 

“And why should I?” Minkyun scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “Why should I do anything for you, or for any of them, when the information may benefit the realm?” 

“Because Seungjun is in trouble.”


	17. battleground.

“I can’t trust you.” 

Changyoon’s brows briefly creased with surprise. “Excuse me?” 

Minkyun shuttered. “This feels like a game where only one of us is aware of what the rules are. It seems a bit unfair, don’t you think?” 

The air between them felt stale. Gone was the charged energy of their very first encounter, only a sense of pure emptiness left in its wake. 

“I guess I had you pegged wrong,” said Changyoon. “For centuries, I believed mortals to be the most loyal species in the universe. The most loyal, but equally as unfaithful. I’ve seen lovers nearly tear each other apart at even the slightest whiff of infidelity, even if it was nothing more than baseless hearsay. Mortals are always quick to turn their backs on their kin when it threatens their own well being. I figured, for once on this rare occasion, that you’d break that cycle of selfishness.  _ Prejudice.  _ But I was wrong. A mortal will be mortal.” 

“I never knew of a faerie in this age who cared for a mortal as you  _ appear  _ to,” Minkyun scoffed. 

Changyoon took a step forward, just enough to keep Minkyun’s attention. “Then you clearly haven’t read the history books. My men, The Winter High Lord,  _ me... _ we  _ fought  _ so that you could live.” 

Minkyun opened his mouth to speak, but Changyoon interjected before he had the chance.

“You know I cannot tell a lie…” he admitted, his voice tired and dry. “I wouldn’t have come here if it weren’t for the situation back in Faerie. The prince—”

“Using Seungjun against me, to force my hand, is not the tactic to wield here. He instructed me to stay put, I will not go against his judgement.” 

Changyoon chuckled dryly. “You don’t understand, princeling...he’s not the same person that left here five years ago. Something happened to him and we need your help in trying to coax him back into himself.” 

“It’s pathetic, really. Don’t you think? That you, a High Fae,  _ High Lord,  _ have come to me, a mortal, to grovel and beg for my help? And for what? A deception? Trickery?” 

“Make no mistake, mortal. I have spoken true in each of our encounters. There is no deception or trickery, if you want your best friend to come back as who he was when he left, you’ll come with me now.” 

Changyoon revealed the palm of his hand, an offer, an invitation for the young mortal to take. “I cannot take you in or out of Faerie against your will. Please…the kid needs you. By turning away from this, you betray his trust in you.” 

A look of contemplation crossed Minkyun’s face as he gazed at the High Lord’s glamour. “By abandoning Pandora, I also betray his trust in me. There is no winning in this situation. If something truly has happened, please do whatever you can in your power to help him. I must stay.” 

The High Lord’s arm fell limp at his side, complete and utter disbelief probably written clearly all over his face. “Once again...you surprise me. Your loyalty stretches rather far, but not as far as I once understood. I hope you don’t regret this decision.” 

And without looking back, he took a deep breath and vanished. 

—

“How is he?” Yuto whispered, sitting at the front desk of the library with Jaeyoung. 

They had agreed to stay put at the front desk unless they absolutely needed to leave the room or move about the room to find something. Seungjun had come out of his room for the first time in nearly a week, they didn’t want to jeopardize his freedom by making even one wrong move. 

Jaeyoung shrugged at the question. “Physically, he appears to be fine. But I don’t know what’s going on inside. I’ve been trying to do whatever research I can to see if there’s something we can do to help him.” 

“The magic,” Yuto said reluctantly. “It’s a leach. Whatever happened in the lake that day, it swallowed the prince whole.” 

“He’s still Seungjun, capable of thinking and speaking for himself, but it’s hard to tell if it’s truly his emotions that were stolen from him.” 

Yuto frowned. “I don’t think that’s the case. The handmaidens have reported back to me that he’s been heard crying whenever they come to switch out his food tray.” 

Jaeyoung folded his arms atop the desk. He’d only seen and spoken to Seungjun briefly since he decided to reappear. There weren’t any indications that sadness had caught him in its web, nor did he seem to be angered by their hovering presence. It was the eerie emptiness that worried everyone. 

At first, Changyoon suggested that perhaps he’d been taken under another Fae’s influence, but seeing how the prince was able to speak freely and make decisions for himself, they’d quickly ruled out the possibility. 

“What of the mortal taking his place?” Jaeyoung had asked on the night Changyoon had returned to the palace from the mortal realm. 

The High Lord shook his head, his eyes rolling with annoyance. “His  _ loyalty  _ to the boy, and his distrust towards me and Faerie, kept him from returning with me.” 

And with that it had seemed that their ideas were beginning to run dry. The only thing they could do for him now was to take a step back and simply wait.

—

Changyoon had been watching Hyojin pace and turn about the room for the better part of an hour. Whatever was bothering him was beyond anything Changyoon could imagine, the worries and woes of High Lords could never just be limited to one thing or another. 

“I’m sitting right here, Hyo…” Changyoon stated firmly, exasperated. “Frankly, there isn’t time to fuss around like this, so just tell me what has you so strung up.” 

Hyojin briefly paused just before his desk, combing his hands through his hair until they exited on the other side. “How am I supposed to explain at High Court that a mortal has been infected by the lake? In what world does it make sense for that to happen?” 

The High Court included each of the regional High Lords, and every six months they would congregate to discuss matters of Faerie that strictly fell under their jurisdiction. Most meetings fell apart not even halfway through the proceedings, and since it was a time of peace, there truthfully wasn’t much to discuss. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of their business.” 

The High Lord of Winter plopped down into his chair, eyes pinned to the smooth deep cherry stained wood. He was overwhelmed, overcome with emotions he’d been unfamiliar with for decades. He’d spent  _ hours  _ combing through books, desperately trying to understand the effects of the lake’s magic. There weren’t many accounts of a mortal being overtaken by its icy waters, and even then the accounts hardly seemed credible. 

“There has to be a way to help him,” Hyojin mumbled.

Changyoon’s eyes darted across the room to where Hyojin sat. “What about the phony prince?” 

Hyojin met his gaze, disbelief flooding his soft olive eyes at the suggestion. “What about him?” 

“Let's take the boy to the mortal realm, to Minkyun.” 

“I’m sorry I don’t think I heard you correctly. I think you just said that we should let Seungjun cross the border.” And when Changyoon didn’t respond, Hyojin’s jaw fell slack. “The contract is  _ binding _ , Changyoon. He cannot simply just... _ leave _ .” 

Changyoon rolled his eyes. “Not if you accompanied him.”

“I can’t—”

“You  _ can…” _ Changyoon emphasized. “You can’t let the past keep you caged here forever.” 

After the rebel uprising in the mortal realm, the damage he’d inflicted on his own kind, as well as the forever unknown potential losses he could have inflicted upon other innocent men, he swore against entering the mortal realm unless absolutely necessary. Stepping foot into The Dark Forest already made him feel like he was pushing the boundaries, despite the fact that the forest was always meant to be neutral. 

“He needs this, Hyojin,” Changyoon pleaded silently, his eyes pouring into his own. “We need answers. He deserves to understand what’s going on underneath the dark magic. And we’ve run out of answers here in Faerie. It’s time to look at the alternatives.” 

Hyojin’s brows flickered with something like curiosity. “What’s going on with you? You’re strangely attached to this boy, someone you don’t even know.  _ You,  _ the High Lord of Autumn, who has always been unfeeling and hard-hearted, come to care for a human being. A trifling mortal.” 

“You don’t think that if we return him to the mortal realm after a royal passing that we won’t have to deal with the consequences?” Changyoon spat. “What happens to him here affects the mortal realm, affects Faerie. If something is seriously wrong with him, disrupting and corrupting his decision making, how do you think he’ll fare as a ruler of his region? You and I are going to live to see his reign, will live through it and see it written into their history, I would like to keep some meaningless war from looming at our borders, all because of some iron-fisted magic that’s suffocating his soul.” 

“And you think some measly trip to the mortal realm is just going to miraculously heal him?” 

Changyoon rolled his eyes as frustration began to bubble at his core. He knew for this reason and that why Hyojin didn’t want to travel to the realm beyond their walls, knew of the traumas that kept him awake at night, and if he didn’t believe this to be as important as it is, he wouldn’t have even dared touch the subject. 

“You said you wanted to find a way to help him. Did you not? For whatever the lake did to him, evidently it’s irreversible—”

“Then why are we—”

“There isn’t enough research to conclude that he’s going to be okay at the end of all of this,  _ but _ I think we can get some answers regarding his behavior here while we’re in the mortal realm.” 

Seungjun’s life and energy were being stolen from him with each and every breath he took. He wasn’t dying by any means, but the person they’d met a year ago was beginning to fade as rapidly as he’d arrived. If they didn’t have the chance to speak with Minkyun, to prove that for once they could be trusted, Changyoon wasn’t sure if there would be anything to return once one of his parents passed. 

The people of Pandora were bound to notice the differences almost immediately. Switching Seungjun and Minkyun would be like replacing white with black, replacing light with darkness, vibrancy with complete and utter emptiness. 

“We have to try,” Changyoon pleaded. “It doesn’t hurt to. And if it’s too much for you to come with us the entire way, you can stay at the edge of the border, you just have to be within the realm.” 

The Pandorian Prince wasn’t dying, wasn’t dead, but he might as well be good as such if this continues any further. 

Hyojin rubbed his temples with his forefingers. “All he’s ever wanted is his freedom...he’s told me as such. And I know by keeping him here, by denying your request, I would only be snuffing out that desire. The magic would consume him until there’s nothing left but an empty shell. But bringing him back into mortal territory, where another version of him stands in his place, could present another possible roadblock if we are caught.” 

To give and to take. 

An eye for an eye. 

_ Hyojin, you yield to nothing and no one. Even to yourself.  _

“Then don’t risk it,” A familiar voice interjected. 

The High Lords followed the voice until they found Seungjun standing between the door jam, arms folded over his chest. 

Changyoon took a tentative step forward. “Seungjun…”

“What’s happened to me is my fault and my fault alone. Neither of you should have to risk anything for my sake—”

“You don’t understand kid,” Changyoon interrupted. “This isn’t just about you. This is about balance between our world and yours, between the magic that resides deep inside of you and yourself, between peace and war. There’s no telling what the future holds if we don’t help you now.” 

“We will travel.” 

Changyoon’s gaze whipped to where Hyojin now stood. The person Changyoon knew was gone, but a High Lord stepped into his place. 

“Changyoon is right,” Hyojin finally admitted. “And on the basis of his reasoning, we will travel, but carefully. No one must know of our presence except for Minkyun.” 

“I can send Yuto ahead to ask him to meet us,” Changyoon offered. 

When the High Lords braved the opportunity to meet Seungjun’s stare one last time, they met nothing. The young prince blinked several times as if acknowledging their decision, but it was clear that they were speaking to a shell, a hollowed out version of the person that was supposed to be there. 

“Seungjun,” Hyojin said breathlessly. “I know you’re there. I know you’re in there...and if there’s even a shred of you that’s listening, I need you to fight like hell. Fight against your captor, that parasite that’s overcome you. We are going to do our best out here to get you out of there. I promise.” 


	18. pathways

_ There is no such thing as favors.  _

The words echoed in Seungjun’s skull everyday ever since he met Hyojin in The Dark Forest. And he was foolish enough to believe that even for just a moment the High Lord could have been telling a white lie, to spare him the reality that might have been similar to his own. 

Instead, he spent every moment of every waking day with a shadow trailing him wherever he went. A handmaiden. A librarian. A High Lord. People he felt indebted to for saving his life, for teaching him the customs and practices which he’d been ill taught, for feeding and housing him even though he was seemingly misplaced. It was only a matter of time before that shadow would swallow him whole, until there was nothing left but an echo of the man he once believed he was supposed to be. 

The fae didn’t believe in remittance, at least not in the same way mortals did. Perhaps it was because the fae weren’t concerned with the superficiality of relationships, but rather they were concerned with what that relationship was going to provide them, and what it would cost in return. 

Seungjun had been stewing over his relationships with those he’d managed to  _ befriend,  _ if he could even call them friendships, it was the only word he could think of to describe it. Ever since he’d come to Faerie, he’s had an unusual amount of time to just think and reflect. In Pandora, there was always something on his mind, not that he could help it. The overwhelming stress and crippling anxiety were enough to break him down to the point of exhaustion each and every day, and there were many days he’d wished that he could be someone else entirely. 

He knew the gods wouldn’t have bestowed him a life of luxury if they didn’t believe he couldn’t handle the pressure and responsibility that came with it. 

_ To give is to take.  _

In many ways, he was grateful to be here. In Faerie. But there would always be an ache that lingered deep in his stomach, a reminder that someone he truly cared for had given up their life to protect his own, that dozens of Fae were not only risking their lives to hide him, but their titles and status as well. It was a burning, nagging constant in his life, that he would have to return to the lion's den, to the suffocating anxiety, the weight of his title. 

No longer Seungjun. 

No longer sir. 

But Your Highness _ —Your Majesty.  _

The Pandorian Prince’s transcendence into excellence. A power he’d feared his entire life. 

He regretted it suddenly. Everything. Meeting Minkyun. The Dark Forest. Faerie. All of it. If there was anything he regretted more than stumbling into The Dark Forest that day, it was his decision to linger in the lake. 

Everything changed after that day. Almost immediately he realized that his ability to dream evaded him. He no longer saw Hyojin there in his vast dreamscapes, no longer fell prey to the nightmares that plagued him, but rather he would simply close his eyes against midnight, and open them at the first signs of dawn. The absence of it all was beginning to chafe against his debilitating stress. 

It was becoming frustrating really, to be so well rested for once in his entire life, but to still have no energy to expend. It were as if life had handed him a poorly dealt hand, and it was becoming more and more obvious as the days passed that the attention of the Winter Court palace was beginning to hone in on him with his hand on show for all to take in and regroup. 

He was used to all eyes being on him, but this felt different, as if they didn’t expect anything from him. It was the genuine concern that put him on edge, an overwhelming sense of confusion settling in the cold places of his mortal heart. If anything, it was beginning to trigger the anxiety that had fallen away with his acclimation to Faerie. 

The shadow he’d grown used to ignoring had awakened from its dormancy, and it appeared much darker than he once remembered it to be. Perhaps it was the endless winter season, or the frail darkness that gathered only at night, yet he was anxious. It was only a matter of time before he would bear witness to its power, what sort of effects it would have on his mortal soul, and it was that very uncertainty which drove him inward. Spiraling, thought after thought, until he was numb with hesitancy. 

It was for that reason he could barely bring himself to speak. Unsure as to what seemed right or wrong, he was so far gone, so deep in his head, that the fine line between the two had blended into something so perfectly seamless; it were as if he’d created something entirely new, someone only he would ever be able to understand. There were no words to describe what it felt like, how confusing it all seemed. 

He was so overcome by his emotions, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, that it was difficult to differentiate between them all. There wasn’t just anger, but contempt  _ and  _ content. Frustration, but satisfaction. Uncertainty, but also a deep sense of conviction. He was lost within himself, and all of it made it much more difficult for him to communicate with the High Fae that surrounded him on a daily basis. Each of them clearly and utterly unsure as to how they’re supposed to approach him, how to maneuver between his moods and anxiety. 

It was like standing at the opening of a dark alleyway past midnight, pitch black with the endless possibilities that could await him on the other side. And even though there was only one way in and one way out, only one path to be followed, his fear and misunderstandings of the world kept him from taking a single step. Although it was a dead end, it was the prospect of what may be waiting for him on the other side of it all that petrified him into silence, into stillness. 

—

Seungjun was only moment from dozing off when a soft rhythm tapped against his door. The sun had already set, the cold chill of the evening seeping through the glass window panes, and he figured it was just another handmaiden letting him know his meal had arrived. Yet another meal he couldn’t bring himself to fetch. 

Instead, he tossed and turned over onto his other side, away from the door to keep from overthinking it. And he was just about to settle there when the knocking came again, much louder this time, much more...insistent. 

Seungjun sighed, turning over until he was flat on his back, staring at the neutral colored ceiling. Raising his voice only enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear, he said, “The door is open.”

The soft click of the door pushing open was neither exciting nor did it induce his curiosity one bit. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find Yuto or one of his various handmaidens standing in the doorway, even if it was Jaeyoung coming to try his hand at getting him to speak more than a couple sentences would have been equally as surprising, yet he found none of them. Which was only mildly surprising to say the least. 

Sloughed of the deep cranberry hair and unmistakable makeup alike, Hyojin stepped through the threshold as elegant and proper as always. Gone was the vanity that the Fae spent so much of their time slaving over, glamours they spent centuries crafting until they were overly satisfied with their creations, and in its place was something quite similar to what he’d already known. His natural hair color, or perhaps a color he may have settled for in a more natural version of his glamour, was a summery sort of chestnut brown—interesting for a High Lord of Winter. And even though it was dark, he could tell that the darkness in his eyes must have meant that his eyes weren’t naturally green either. 

“I’m surprised the door is unlocked,” Hyojin admitted, his voice a bit more hesitant than his typical charade.

Seungjun pushed himself up until he was leaning against the headboard. “I’ve never locked it.” 

The High Lord remained neutral at the comment, a sudden confession per se, as he closed the door behind him, making himself comfortable at the bench that sat at the foot of the bed. 

“What have I done to deserve some time in a High Lord’s busy schedule?” Seungjun asked, his voice dry and tired. 

Hyojin leaned against the foot of the bed, his arms laid across the beam of the footboard. There was something that reminded him distinctly of Minkyun about the behavior; perhaps it was the way he rested his chin against his knuckles, or the faint pout that accentuated his natural features. It made him seem much younger than he likely was. 

“I guess it’s not what you’ve done, but what you’re not doing,” Hyojin replied. 

Seungjun frowned. “Which would entail?”

Hyojin’s expression faltered. Something a lot like frustration, curiosity, and distress curled up into something tight, puffed in and out like a cat's tail when it’s been frightened or angered to a point of no return. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” 

“And that worries you?” He didn’t mean to ask, but there was no helping that the words were out in the open, a question he’d always wondered to hear the answer to for months. 

“Well it’s certainly worrying everybody else—"

“That wasn’t the question.” 

Hyojin tilted his head ever so slightly, his mind swirling with lies he wished he could tell, but instead he was desperately scrambling for anything he could possibly hold onto. Something that someone as keen as Seungjun would believe. 

“You cannot lie to me, Hyojin,” Seungjun stated firmly, the words as quiet as a whisper between them. And it lingered, hung in the air like a heavy weight, weighing him down until it felt like too much. 

The High Lord chuckled dryly. “I can’t lie to anyone, sweet prince.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Hyojin shot back. “Does it bother you?”

Seungjun sighed roughly. “It’s degrading—”

“This is  _ Faerie…”  _ Hyojin reminded him. “Your title means nothing to the likes of them.” 

_ “Them?” _

Hyojin sat up until his back was straight, until he and Seungjun could meet eye to eye. “The Fae. The High Court. The Lower Courts. All of the beings that exist between them. Until you become King…your position, your  _ status  _ as a prince, it will mean nothing until then.”

Seungjun sat up straighter, crossing his legs beneath the sheets. “The feeling is mutual.” He ran a hand through his lightly disheveled hair, a cross expression reaching his eyes. “You think the people of the mortal realm care for Fae politics? It’s customs and beliefs? It holds no weight there. They do not fear your influence.” 

“And yet…you still fear  _ us.” _

The young prince froze, trying to assess the words, what they meant, what they were supposed to mean. Hyojin could see the internal conflict, a war waging there, but he knew a losing battle when he saw one. 

“You fear what you believe to be unnatural, you fear our power and the effects it may have on your frail bodies.” Hyojin paused, waiting for any sort of rebuttal before pressing forward. “You fear what you do not know. And it’s that very idea that fuels that rage and prejudice of most faeries all across the territory. It’s their ignorance that builds their preconceived notions of mortals; it’s the very same way that mortals have prejudged the Fae. History is written by those who usurp achievement, and that’s how our kinds fall to the bottom of our respective food chains.” 

Seungjun shifted, not because he was uncomfortable or because the truth appeared to be too much, but because he seemed...intrigued. For the first time in a whole, genuinely interested in something anyone had to say. 

Hyojin stood and rounded the bed until he was standing before the mortal prince, hovering above him like a light of hope 

“It is someone like you that has the opportunity to change _everything._ _You_ becoming king one day can rewrite centuries worth of angst and predispositions. For just one day _…come with me..._ get out of bed, get out of this room, this _house..._ show me that our future is nothing to fear.” 

There was a  _ very  _ long pause, a very tense and terrifying moment, completely filled with deep anxious breaths. And for a while, it was just them. Staring,  _ studying  _ each other, each other’s characters, morals, beliefs. Everything that should naturally oppose, mysteriously brought together by some force of nature that must have believed they were destined to meet. 

But it was in this moment that Hyojin wholeheartedly believed that they should have never met, that their worlds should have remained separate for as long as they possibly could. Seungjun was too young to have to understand the complexities of the world; eventually, he would get that time. To understand. To learn.  _ To grow.  _

Here,  _ now,  _ felt wrong. 

Seungjun pulled the blankets back, pushing himself closer to the edge of the bed, and when he was finally close enough to the High Lord, he looked up and asked, “What if I say no?” 

To say yes would mean many things Hyojin hoped for. Not for himself, but for Seungjun. The mortal realm. Its future with their future king. 

To say no…

Hyojin shuttered a breath, meeting Seungjun’s deep brown eyes, a depth that reminded him of the earth. The seeds of a life left unestablished, but with that an unspoken hope that would leave generations in awe and wonder. 

The High Lord could feel himself crumbling with something that could have been disappointment, but for the sake of the many people who believed in him, believed in Seungjun and his tenacity, he wanted to hold onto the feeling that perhaps this mortal prince would persevere. 

“If you say no, then you’ll only be the living and breathing confirmation of what every other Fae thinks of your kind.” 

Whether or not Seungjun had even thought about what that meant was completely unclear to Hyojin. Frankly, he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on in that once curious mind of his, but Seungjun swinging his legs over the side of the bed was enough to thoroughly startle the High Lord of Winter. 

But not as much as him saying, “So where are we going?” 


	19. infinity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man I don’t even know what this is, hopefully this is okay

The journey of crossing the border into the mortal realm was just as fuzzy as Seungjun remembered. Time flows differently when passing through the border, and it was anything but natural. 

He knew Changyoon or Hyojin were responsible for blurring his memory, blurring the path in and out of Faerie, protecting it with everything they had. This was their home, and seeing that he would be the king to Pandora one day, this was the only way they probably knew to protect what could slip through their very fingers.

Yet...something about the subtle gesture of keeping him in the dark rubbed him the wrong way. He couldn’t blame or doubt them for not putting their faith and trust in him, given everything that he’s said, everything he’d done, but he couldn’t help but feel disappointed all the same.

Once they were through the gates of Faerie, and enough distance between them and the border had been established, the trio abandoned their carriage and personal effects, leaving it in Yuto’s care to guard until they returned. 

Seungjun observed the miles worth of deep woods surrounding them at every angle, and there was no holding back the twitch of his skeptical brow. “At the rate we’re going, I don’t think we’re going to make it into Pandora before nightfall.” 

Hyojin merely waved a hand between them, silencing the mortal prince in his tracks. “Don’t worry, Changyoon here has got that under control.” 

A smug and proud expression stretched in the Autumn High Lord’s features as he moved to dust something from his perfectly spotless shoulder. 

Seungjun scoffed. “What now? Are you going to tell me that he can sprout wings and fly or something to that nature?” 

A half-satisfied expression reached Hyojin’s lips as he shrugged. “Something of the sort, I guess you could say.” 

Before Seungjun could even get the question out of his mouth, Changyoon stepped forward, his expression suddenly serious, his hand extended to him. “Do you trust me?” 

“You told me once that I shouldn’t,” the prince shot back. 

There was no snarky remark, no rebuttal, just the further emphasis of his extended hand between them. It was a mystery, what taking that hand would mean, what would happen, an offer with very little to barter with. 

Pushing what little hesitation that lingered in the pit of his stomach to the back of his mind, Seungjun slid his hand into that of the High Lord, who merely smirked with something to the effect of a small victory.

And then the world turned upside down. 

—

From what Seungjun remembered, Pandora looked as if it hadn't aged a bit since the day he’d left. Granted, there were many more people waking about, more children running freely in the plaza, more kiosks and stalls constructed in the marketplace, but the aura remained familiar. A constant he didn’t even realize he’d come accustomed to. 

Yet, there was no warmth fluttering in his chest at the sight of it all. Just miles away was everything he’d once held near and dear to his heart; his family, even if they had never been on relatively good terms; Minkyun, who’d sacrificed absolutely everything to maintain his presence in Pandora. He felt absolutely nothing.

There was no relief, no satisfaction in knowing that nothing was amiss. 

“How long have I been away?” Seungjun asked, his voice a hushed whisper, mostly to himself. 

The weight of Changyoon’s hand against his shoulder was both comforting and not. It was only a reminder that although he was within arms reach of home, he was still distanced from it all. “One year in Faerie is the equivalent to five mortal years.” 

He felt like a stranger, or rather a visitor to his own home, someone who was familiar with the land and everything it had to offer, but nothing to keep him attached. 

“Five years…” he recited breathlessly. 

The gravity of his situation was beginning to weigh on him, the burden of time dragging him out of a dense fog, a daydream he wasn’t sure if he wanted to wake up from. 

Everything felt heavy. His chest, the weight of his steps, even his head. They hadn’t even been in town for half an hour and Seungjun was already exhausted. 

“You’ll get used to it…” Changyoon whispered from behind. “The adjustment to the air here after experiencing the weight of nature in Faerie. It will take a few hours to adapt, but it’s something you’ll get used to.” 

Seungjun scoffed. “You speak as if this is something I’ll be doing for the rest of my life.” 

“And you believe I spoke falsely?” Changyoon retorted. “Make no mistake, it will be something you’ll have to do several times in your life, and it will be something you do for the remainder of the life that you spend with us. Following that logic, one could say that you will have to do it for the rest of your life.” 

_ “Enough,”  _ Hyojin interjected, his voice firm and cold. He slipped between them, pushing either of them away from the other. “We are not here to bicker. Save that for the journey back to Faerie.” 

Changyoon rolled his eyes childishly. “Yes, sir.” 

They continued to walk through a narrower byroad of the plaza, Seungjun hadn’t been fed any details regarding the location and time that they’d be meeting Minkyun at. He knew that Minkyun would be wearing his face, the same way jesters wore a thick mask of paints and oils, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be able to recognize it at all. Seeing as his own perception of himself was far less grand than what most people complimented him for. 

Would he be able to see his best friend beyond the illusion, or would he simply be doomed to face a false perception of himself? He had so many questions, was curious about so many things that may have happened during his time away, and yet he didn’t feel compelled to voice his curiosity aloud. 

Most days he felt whole, but it was a day much like this that he felt like he was no longer in control of himself. Nothing more than a mere stranger that had made himself at home far too quickly. The overfamiliarity of it all stirred longing in his indifferent heart. His heart wanted one thing, but his conscience screamed for something entirely different, yearned for conformity and concealment. Despite the thick and well designed glamour that Hyojin had crafted in his own likeness, his desire to remain hidden, to go about his way completely unseen, had him on high alert. 

Seungjun shuttered as he rubbed his arms which had suddenly grown cold. “Where to first?” 

The High Lords exchanged a look before they turned their gazes back on him. There was a knowing there, a secret that they understood and he never would. 

“What are you not telling me?” Seungjun asked half-heartedly. 

Uncomfortable, Changyoon cleared his throat. “You and I will split off from Hyojin here.” 

The motion of Seungjun’s brows gave way to his surprise. “We aren’t going together.”

Changyoon merely shook his head. “We will go ahead to meet Minkyun, while Hyojin remains here.” 

Although Hyojin appeared calm, collected, his eyes trembled with a story. Perhaps Seungjun would never get the chance to hear it, but an open wound was an open wound, and he knew one when he saw one. 

—

Seungjun couldn’t remember the last time he’d been brought to the beach. Yet, somehow he remembered not being particularly fond of it. Now, sitting amidst the coarse, rough sand, he could only imagine as to why. 

“We’re supposed to meet him here?” Seungjun shouted down the grade to where Changyoon stood, staring into the great unknown of Pandora’s finest ocean. 

The young prince stood from the thick sand, his steps heavy as she made his way to the bottom of the small dune. He was nearly out of breath when he continued to say, “You picked a rather public place, don’t you think?” 

Changyoon didn’t even so much as glance in his direction, his eyes completely fixated on the darkness of the water laid out before him. “They say that hiding in plain sight is sometimes the best weapon to wield.” 

_ “Sometimes?”  _

The High Lord chuckled. “Besides...no one will recognize you—nor him.” 

“What?”

When Changyoon finally turned to face him, he stifled a laugh. “What? Do you think Hyojin is the only High Lord that knows how to manage a glamour?”

“But—but Minkyun is already glamoured.” 

Changyoon took a healthy step toward the mortal prince, his hands coiled together just at the small of his back. “What has been bestowed upon someone can just as easily be taken away.” 

The High Lord of Autumn lifted his gaze, not so much that he was looking  _ at _ him, but beyond him. And when Seungjun turned, his curiosity getting the best of him, he felt as if the Earth had been leveled. 

Just when he believed that he was adjusting properly to his surroundings, an infinitely heavy weight slammed him into the sand. He should have been overcome with joy, with everything good and gracious that he’d once been so familiar with, but seeing his best friend running towards him with so much fervor and anticipation only reminded him of the distance he’d voluntarily forced between them. 

_ “Jun!”  _ Minkyun wailed.  _ “Seungjun!”  _

A pale smoke wrapped itself around him, almost protectively, a haze so thin he was sure that he was the only person in the world who could see it. It was like a black hole collapsing upon itself; sheer nothingness swallowing itself whole until there was nothing but heart shattering darkness in its wake. 

And when Minkyun dove for him, wrapped his arms around him so tightly, practically clinging to him for dear life, the universe fell silent. The same sort of silence that filled the gap between a lightning strike and the cry of its thunder; the deafening silence that rings in your ears after a dynamite blast; the heart wrenching stillness of two lovers that have finally realized that their love has grown stale. 

When Minkyun pulled away and the mortal prince was given a chance to really look at his friend who he’d abandoned, the first thing he recognized before the drastic change in his hair’s natural coloring was the exhaustion in his face. An exhaustion so deep and personal, Seungjun couldn’t help but wonder if they were somehow connected in this as well. Surely Minkyun looked as tired as Seungjun felt. 

“You’re okay…” Minkyun whispered between them, taking the prince’s face in his hands.  _ “You’re okay.”  _

“Minkyun…” 

The younger helped him up from the sand, not letting go of his hand even once. It wasn’t until Seungjun looked in Changyoon’s direction that Minkyun managed to acknowledge the High Lord’s existence. 

“It hasn’t been two months yet this time either…” Minkyun drawled. 

Changyoon merely shrugged, feigning some variation of ignorance to Minkyun’s sudden outburst. “Something important came up.” 

“I didn’t think you’d bring him here like this though,” Minkyun said as he gestured to Hyojin’s secure glamour. “Frankly, I didn’t think you’d bring him to Pandora.” 

“I told you that he needed you,” Changyoon countered. He crossed his arms adamantly across his chest. “If this was the only way I could convince you that I wasn’t trying to deceive you, then I hope it’s enough.” 

Minkyun turned back to him, studied him, studied the glamour. And something about being held under Minkyun’s passive gaze made him feel exposed, made him feel insecure for not only himself but for Hyojin as well. The glamour had been specifically designed in Hyojin’s  _ true  _ likeness,  _ by  _ Hyojin, and Seungjun knew by coming here he would be revealing the High Lord’s hesitant vulnerability to the world. 

To  _ his  _ world. To Pandora. To a realm that would never be able to understand or accept the High Lord for the differences that lie between the two. 

“The pointed ears are a bit much,” Minkyun admitted. “But it’s nothing I can’t overlook. What matters is that you’re here.” 

Seungjun shrank away from his friend’s touch. He eyed Changyoon, who also appeared discomforted by the sudden admission, and sighed. “There’s no need to make unnecessary comments such as that. Please...apologize.” 

“How inconsiderate of me,” Minkyun responded far too quickly. When he turned to bow in Changyoon’s direction, something in his manner emphasized the predispositions that Seungjun had forgotten in his time away from Pandora. “I apologize, it won’t happen again.” 

Changyoon could only roll his eyes, most likely cursing the insincerity that lingered. 

That very same universal silence began to filter through the banter. With it, a red hot anger. Perhaps it was because he’d never been prejudiced against the Fae, or perhaps it was his fondness for the individuals whom he’d befriended within the year, or maybe it was some strange but natural connection between the two. But the anger, the  _ embarrassment,  _ he felt was indescribable. It were as if he were burning up from the inside outward, until there was absolutely nothing to feel at all. 

Gone was the rage. The sadness. The dull ache of emptiness.

In its place was simply  _ nothing _ . A black hole that had finally reached its breaking point, collapsing inward until it completely ravaged itself into infinity. 


	20. an age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year <3

Changyoon realized, for the first time since he and Hyojin had begun planning this whole escapade, that perhaps this whole experience could actually do more harm for Seungjun than it would good. 

None of the numerous variations for how he believed this visit would go included... _ this. _

The echo of the back of Seungjun’s hand against Minkyun’s face rang in Changyoon’s ears like white noise. And it was the way pure darkness shone in Seungjun’s once bright eyes that prompted the High Lord to move. 

“Minkyun,  _ move—”  _ Changyoon wedged himself between the prince and his pauper. 

“I expected much more from you, Minkyun,” Seungjun stated softly, his voice mostly his own. 

Minkyun scoffed lightheartedly. “I really don’t understand why you’re so upset over something so small.” 

Changyoon could only wish that Minkyun understood the importance of  _ this  _ particular glamour. Or rather, the fact that it wasn’t truly a glamour to begin with. The grief and darkness that accompanied it. It was a story neither Seungjun nor Minkyun knew, and frankly, it wasn’t a story that had ever been wholly revealed to him either, but there were shards that Changyoon had found and pieced together until a somewhat cohesive understanding had been established. 

A subtle annoyance blossomed in his own chest, but it was the sudden and near violent anger that had erupted quietly from Seungjun that stirred Changyoon’s curiosity. They hadn’t been together long, but it was difficult to discern if the anger etched into Seungjun’s features was genuine, or if it was merely fueled by whatever magic had disturbed him, taken him captive. 

It was the only explanation he could muster to justify his sudden shift in behavior. 

“Seungjun…” Changyoon whispered. He shook him softly by the shoulders until the young prince’s eyes were fixed on him. “Come to your senses, boy.” 

The prince took several deep breaths before the darkness began slipping away, returning to its dormancy. The magic would sink and hide until it had time to recuperate, until it had enough time to devise another spectacle. 

“Are you okay?” Changyoon asked hesitantly. 

Seungjun nodded, shuttering a sigh as he raked his hands through his hair. The cool winter breeze pushing his hair back into place. 

Minkyun waited patiently from a healthy distance away. He seemed both relaxed and on edge all at once, as if he were already trying to prepare for a storm that loomed far off into the distant horizon. 

—

Being in Minkyun’s company again was nothing like how Seungjun once expected it to be. 

Their reunion, while far from grand, was something he’d been anticipating for nearly a year, something that he was sure Minkyun had been agonizing over for half of a decade. Yet, whatever excitement they’d felt in each other’s company prior to his departure ceased all together. The giddiness that he’d once felt in his best friend’s presence had been replaced by a new stem of anxiety, burrowing itself deep in the uncharted abyss of his heart, one that never seemed to hit rock bottom. 

It was funny really, what time could do to a person. To a place. To people. The relationship between them. Much like death, time was unforgiving. Unyielding. There was no going back to a time of your deepest regrets, to right the wrongs that desperately needed to be remedied. Instead, the consequences of those actions are the first to greet you in the morning, is the sunlight that still managed to stream through the curtains that were designed to contain darkness. People flowing through time as it ticks away, engraving itself into history for eternity, bear the reminder of the what-ifs, the what-could-have-been’s. 

Here and now, Minkyun was that very reminder. That time had betrayed them, that time had abandoned their promises to one another, their morals and desires. It had somehow deemed them unworthy, not only of each other, but of their patience to understand one another. 

_ “You’ve changed…” _

Seungjun looked up from his fingers, which he’d been nervously fiddling with for the better part of the last hour, and stared at him, a question in his eyes. “I could say the same for you…” 

“Well, five years will do that to you,” Minkyun retorted. “The sudden mobility of my social status, and the discipline that accompanies it…” 

Minkyun’s words trailed off at the tail of his thought, his trembling hand going to his lips, a nervous tick that seemingly hadn’t abolished itself. 

“Why do you think I was doing everything in my power to get out of there?” Seungjun sighed. “It’s a cage —that place, the people that live within those walls, it’s no better than the hell we’re all desperately trying to avoid. It’s a shame that it took all of  _ this _ for you to finally understand that.” 

“You don’t think I did back then?” Minkyun folded his hands in his lap. “You don’t think that I didn’t try to understand what you were going through? Despite my low-class status, lack of education, and bruised heart, I did everything in my power to be the best that I could  _ for _ you. And even though it wasn’t much, I would have given it all up if it meant leaving here, going somewhere far away, would have made you happy.” 

Seungjun knew that better than anyone. The sacrifices that Minkyun had been preparing to make, stretching far beyond his comfort zone in order to protect him, he’d known it all. 

_ What if I asked you to leave with me? _

That’s what Minkyun had offered once. A freedom he’d been craving his entire life, a sanctuary that could have bestowed great happiness, and he’d let it all slip away like water dripping between his fingers. And he’d decline it again, over and over, until it was nothing but a forgotten memory.   


—

Changyoon sat away from the mortals. Close enough to keep his eye on them, but far enough away to give them the privacy they deserved from his fae hearing. 

He couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the mortal prince. There was no telling when things may go astray, when that blood boiling anger would erupt again, leaving countless casualties in its wake. 

“I see things are going well…”

The Autumn High Lord whipped around until Hyojin was in his field of vision. There was no point in hiding the genuine surprise that had to have been etched into his eyes, a shadow of disbelief lingering just beyond it. 

“You came.” 

Hyojin nodded. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” 

Changyoon sighed, his shoulders releasing all of the tension he hadn’t even realized had been there. “I have everything under control. You can trust me with this.” 

“I know I can…” he reassured, his voice long and distant. “I just wanted to see it for myself.” 

And for a brief moment, Changyoon wasn’t sure if Hyojin had been referring to the reunion or the beach. But as Hyojin’s gaze began to falter, began to settle on the wide expanse of the shoreline, and the horizon just beyond it, he knew he had his answer. 

“You know you shouldn’t be here,” Changyoon admitted, a heavy silence falling between them. 

Hyojin shuffled, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. “It’s been half of a millennia. Nevertheless, it seems that time is still cruel.” 


	21. induratize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> induratize (v.) - to make one’s own heart hardened or resistant to someone’s pleas or advances, or to the idea of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // blood

_ Hyojin was soaked almost indefinitely from head to toe in raw crimson blood. The billowing smoke came up into his visions like sheets of snow in the winter. The ash rained down in piles, laying the dead to rest before they could be given the chance at a proper funeral. _

_ Fae and mortals alike littered the battlefield, like specs of blood splattered against a crisp white wall, against the fresh powder of the Winter Court's first snowfall of the season. People he'd known since their birth had given their lives to fight against their own kind, a reality so harsh that it was nearly as stark as the deep red carpets being laid out all across the field. Even in between the haze of the smoke, he couldn't help but recognize the humans that he'd befriended and swore to protect. Yet, his heart ached something fierce. Their deaths, their dedication, and everything in between, it was nothing but a horrific reminder of the promises he'd unintentionally broken. _

_ Hyojin couldn't remember a time he'd felt more overwhelmed. There was no escape. No escaping the reality that he'd voluntarily immersed himself. No escaping the crushing smoke and moaning of the injured. No matter where he turned there was a reminder of who he was fighting for, who he was fighting against, and who he wasn't. _

_ So, instead of facing that reality head on, instead of comforting the weak, and encouraging those with an inner strength much greater than his own, he ran. _

Coward.

Weakling.

_ Once he cleared the treeline of the dense forest, the world opened up to nothing but ocean. Water that stretched so far and wide it almost appeared to go on forever with no end in sight. His lungs were raw, singed with the bitter ash that rained down on them like a storm in the eye of a hurricane, and the salt heavy air of the ocean nipped at his tongue. His mouth watered _ ,  _ a stark reminder that he nor his men have had a single drop of water in days. _

_ Not only that, but the pressure lodged between his skull and his mind was beginning to become unbearable. _

_ "Hyojin..." a breathless voice called out. _

_ When he turned, he found Donghun—his best friend, and the mortal realm’s current King—limping through the thick sand, just as blood soaked as he was. Perhaps even more so. _

_ Hyojin nearly tripped over himself as he rushed towards his dear friend. "What happened to you?! I haven't heard a single breath regarding your whereabouts since we got separated on the first day of the fighting." _

_ The High Lord reached the mortal just in time, wrapping his hands around him, as he collapsed under himself in the sand. _

_ Donghun muttered something that sounded like an apology as he pushed himself into a seated position. "After spending much of the second day trying to escort those who were injured to a safe space, I found myself in Changyoon's company. Not that I could bring myself to be surprised that he was the one to find me. If not you, then he, certainly." _

_ Hyojin almost laughed.  _ Almost _. _

_ "What happened to _ you?"  _ Donghun turned back on him. "I had been on the defense and when I turned to see how you were faring, you were just...gone." _

_ "A battlefield can only be organized for so long, until it becomes complete and utter chaos." _

_Hyojin winced at the pain that pulsed rapidly at his temple, as if someone_ _somewhere was furiously,_ desperately _pounding at his door. Trying to draw his attention elsewhere._

_ Donghun sat up, alarmed by Hyojin's sudden disposition. "Hyo?! Hyojin, are you okay? Is it your head again?" _

_ He squeezed his friend's hand reassuringly, trying to apply some sort of comfort to someone who needed it much more than he ever would. "I'm fine.  _ I'm fine."

_ "You told me that the Fae were incapable of lying." _

_ Hyojin heaved a strained laugh. "And what I said remains true." _

_ "Then how are you able to tell me that you're fine when we both know you're not?" _

_ "If I said it is so, then it is so—" _

"Hyojin."

"Enough,"  _ Hyojin demanded. "Please. I'm tired." _

_ He wasn't sure how long they stayed there like that, merely laying in the sand until it grew cold, but the longer he stayed there, the more aware he became of the fact that his skin was stiffening as the blood that didn't belong to him began to dry. It was like trying to bend something that could only stretch so far, its limits tested by the sheer fact that it could be. _

_ His thoughts were a heavy weight against the cool autumn air as the sun began to fade into the horizon. There was no telling when the next wave of Unseelie rebels would come along to look for those that made it through night, and Hyojin had no reason to fear them. They were his own blood, his kin in nearly every way but by name. He knew of their temperament, how to handle it and how to buy time if it all seemed to be too much. What he couldn't control was the fact that they were on different sides of the same coin. Those who chose to protect, to learn, to understand; and those who sought the destroy, to capture, to exploit. _

_ And he was  _ their _ High Lord.  _

_ Someone who was supposed to represent everything they stood for, and in direct comparison, his subjects were supposed to reflect his ideals, his leadership. And yet, neither of those coincided with one another. There were whispers amongst the Courts, both the High Court and the Lower Courts of Faerie, utterances of the Winter High Lord's failure. His failure to maintain the peace amongst the Unseelie, failure to conform to the whims and wishes of the Unseelie and their demands to uphold their predispositions of the mortal realm, the people that lived there. Their anger fueled by his upheaval of the traditional Unseelie beliefs; instead, attempting to uphold the unorthodox optimism of the late High Lord of Winter. _

_ Pain cracked against his skin like whip against freshly torn skin. The agony ripped through him like a scalding brand against his soul, rippling through him until he was numb with cold. _

_ "Hyojin!" _

_ The High Lord fought against all better judgement and scrambled about until he was on his feet, pushing Donghun back into the sand. "No. No! Please, stay where you are. For all that is good and holy,  _ please _ just stay there." _

_ "What is—" _

_ A ringing so fierce grew in his ears, cancelling all noise that threatened to seep through. He saw the way Donghun's lips moved frantically, his features desperately pleading for some sort of understanding. All he could do was back away, shaking his head disapprovingly at his friend's defiance. _

_ And then his magic exploded. Ripped  _ through _ him,  _ out _ of him like a demon crawling its way up from the deep abyss of hell. What once and always should have been of something much greater than good, something so pure and natural, now turned violent. It morphed in the same way clouds churned and gave way to thunderstorms, in the same way a spark could swallow up whole forests and towns amidst raging wildfires. That was the truth of nature, it could be one thing and its demon. Pure and corrupt. Calm and violent. Selfless, but power hungry. Selfish, but sustaining. _

_There was not one without the other. For nature was all about balance, perhaps it seemed injust,_ _but nature abided by its own rules, and those who inhabited the rules would be forced to live by its standards._

_ Darkness grew out of him like oil slicked across water. Dense. Heavy. And it shined with rage, relished in the pain that swelled at his spine, his neck, his temples. _

_ Donghun thrashed against him, desperately trying to shake him to his senses, and the Hyojin that had been pushed deep down into himself, far beneath the anger and destructiveness, feared for him. For there was nothing he could do for him now. Nothing he could do or say to protect him. _

_ Another simple promise broken. Another person he’d disappoint. _

Please,  _ he begged silently. _ Run. Leave.

_ He knew there was no use in trying; he could scream at the top of his lungs, use up all of the energy he had left in his body, and the words still wouldn't come. It was completely hopeless. _

_ The beast was out; the magic had nowhere else to go  _ but _ out. And it would do anything to protect itself. _

_ Hyojin should have seen it coming, should have done something more to distance himself from the Pandorian King. But his feet would not move, despite the brutal commands. He was simply stuck, left alone to helplessly watch as Donghun struggled against him, against the magic, against something that was far beyond their friendship. _

_ And Hyojin's heart cracked,  _ shattered _ into nothing as the darkness reached out, wrapping its delicate nimble fingers around the base of Donghun's neck. _

_ No.  _ No.

Stop.

_ He begged to the gods, anyone and anything that was willing to listen, to save him. Pleaded with everything he had left in him to spare this young life. _

_ It was a cruelty. To watch. And just when he thought it couldn't get worse, the ringing in his ears faded until there was nothing but the sounds of Donghun's struggle, groaning and choking as he fought for whatever air he could get. _

_ "Hyojin..." he sobbed. _

_ The High Lord choked on a cry, shrieked as he desperately fought against his power. And it was Donghun's sudden silence that drew the curtains closed, his body fell limp in the magic's grasp. _

_ The darkness rumbled, almost as if it were chuckling, satisfied with the product of its power. With all of its might, it tossed Donghun across their shared vision until the body had cracked against stone. _

—

_ When the magic finally exhausted, Hyojin couldn't bring himself to move across the sand to where his friend's lifeless body lay. There was a void stirring deep within him, a dense fury and fright turning out to meet one another for the first time. He'd never known power quite like that, had never felt the emotions that fueled it like gasoline to a fire. He hadn't even considered the possibility that magic had emotions, that it managed to feel things so fiercely. _

_ There was no telling how long he stayed there like that, kneeling deep in the sand, eyes pinned wholly on the lifeless body of a nation that didn’t know that their King was dead. _

_ "Donghun..." Hyojin choked out. "I—Please...forgive me." _

_ Life had remedies for many things. For healing the sick. For restoring the health of those who'd been injured in battle. For a heartache so deep it damn near shattered the heart. But nature had no remedy for death—the most finite of its judgements. Once bestowed, there was no overturning it. That was the harsh reality of fate, it begrudgingly makes itself known in the same manner that the stars appear in the night sky. Although, the dazzling embers fade into existence, no one ever bothers to acknowledge their presence until the calm indigo bleeds out of them. _

_ For hours upon hours, Hyojin uttered apologizes of all different sizes, of all different lengths, as if it were the only language left in the world that he knew how to speak. _

_ He continued to do so until his words ran dry, until all he had left to do was pour his heart out onto the sand between them, until apologies suddenly felt abhorrent. Until they felt bitter on his tongue. Then, as if he'd entered a new sort of trance, he began to speak into existence spells of preservation, of longing and pain, as he urged the gods that he hoped would listen this time to protect him as he painstakingly carved himself open until his heart was cradled in his hands. _

_ Hyojin wasted no time as he began to dig. And dig. And dig until he was confident that the hole was deep enough to keep any mortal or Fae from discovering it. _

_ The High Lord of Winter buried his heart. Wrapped it deep in a blanket of so much darkness, so much regret and sorrow, that he could only pray that no living thing may be able to find it. Even he hoped that time would begin to wear on him, that one day he would forget the very spot he opted for its final resting place. _

_ That's all he could do now.  _ Hope. _ Hope that one day someone would come along and make him forget the constant reminder of what he had (and hadn't) done, which only managed to keep him awake at night. That one day his heart would feel something beyond the numbness that etched itself deep into its veins like blood magic. _

_He desperately hoped that one day—in a time so far beyond his reach that it would appear like a dream,_ _something so foreign that it couldn’t possibly be real—perhaps then, he could forgive himself for a sin he would never be able to erase._

_ But for now, for today—he would suffer. _


	22. bewildered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one dedicated to wjc, the pandemonium propagandists

When the High Lords and Seungjun returned to Faerie, it almost felt as if nothing had changed between the time they’d departed and their far less grand return. 

Yuto had been waiting at the gate waiting for them, a thick scroll in hand, and just the mere sight of it gave Changyoon a headache. 

“We just came back from vacation, Yuto,” Changyoon whined. “Can’t you give us a break?” 

Yuto chuckled. “A High Lord never rests.” 

“Nor do you…” the High Lord quipped. “Perhaps  _ you  _ need a vacation. That will solve all of our problems.” 

“You speak as if I’m the only messenger to the High Court.” 

Changyoon shrugged and rolled his eyes playfully. “Come on, we all know you’re the Court favorite anyways.” 

Seungjun noticed the subtle blush that crept into the apples of Yuto’s cheeks at the remark. The messenger merely cleared his throat and shoved the scroll in Hyojin’s hands before leaving without saying another word. 

“What is it?” Changyoon asked with such an indifferent severity, glancing at the piece of parchment that Hyojin had quickly unfurled. 

Almost as if they shared the same body, the High Lords sighed. 

“A summons?!” Changyoon exclaimed. “It’s not even time for us to gather. Not even  _ close.”  _

It hadn’t even been a week since their prior summons to High Court, which could only mean that the Queen must have discovered something of great worth to prompt another gathering of the High Lords this soon. 

Hyojin rolled up the parchment, glancing in Seungjun’s direction to see if he could gauge any sort of reaction. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting in doing so, but seeing the mortal prince so completely and utterly disinterested somehow felt discouraging. 

“This is bullshit,” Changyoon muttered as he tore the notice from Hyojin’s fingers and marched into the mansion. 

“So you’ll be leaving again soon, I suppose.” 

It wasn’t a question, and it didn’t quite feel like a statement either, but rather an accusation. 

“Just think,” Hyojin declared. “You’ll have the entire manor to yourself. No High Lord’s to weigh down on you.” 

The prince shrugged, brushing against his shoulder with some force before mumbling a quick, “Safe travels.” 

Hyojin couldn’t help but turn with the momentum of the gesture, a mild bitterness growing in his chest at Seungjun’s endless souring attitude. He’d been able to tolerate it in its initial stages, had even exposed himself to a world he swore to distance himself from, all to try and understand the complexities of the spell that had woven itself deep into the prince’s soul. All of those efforts, the emotions he’d repressed, wasted on a parasite tightly wound around its host. It’s grip unrelenting in more ways than one. 

He’d opened his heart up to himself for the first time in nearly five hundred years, had returned to the very place he’d concealed it, veiled it in sand and time. And it crippled him, damaging his pride to the point where he was sure he could feel a dull ache in his chest. 

“My Lord??”

Hyojin turned to find Yuto still standing there, as if waiting for further instruction. There were no words to describe how much the High Lord admired Yuto’s neutrality. Working for seven High Court’s was exhausting, it had to be, seeing that even having to attend a meeting with all seven High Lord’s present managed to wear Hyojin down to the bones. Let alone having to follow each of their order’s with complete confidence and discretion, Hyojin couldn’t have been more grateful to have someone like Yuto working for the realm—a lesser Fae at that. 

Someone who’d proven that ability and dedication is much more valuable than the blood you were born with. 

“Yuto, I apologize. I know you must be busy, please feel free to go whenever you like,” Hyojin said. “You don’t need my permission to excuse yourself.” 

The pixie bowed gratefully, a chuckle passing through his lips. “I understand, my Lord. You’ve always been the most warm hearted of the Seasonal High Lords. I just wanted to make sure each of you were okay before I take my leave.” 

It was Hyojin’s turn to laugh. “I suppose we are as fine as we can possibly be.” 

“The prince?” Yuto wondered, his voice trailing in question. “How was the trip?” 

The High Lord shook his head in disappointment, a frustrated sigh slipping through the cracks. “It was almost as if this had done him more harm than good. I don’t know what to make of all this.” 

If they weren’t able to determine the root of Seungjun’s lack of personality prior to a royal passing, and remedy it in some fashion, then Hyojin wasn’t confident in determining what their relationship with the mortal realm was going to entail. 

Yuto hummed on contemplation. “They say that sometimes the root of the problem tends to be the best resource is determining a resolution.” 

“We can’t do that to him,” Hyojin said without any hesitation. “We don’t know what would possibly happen if he’s exposed to that magic again. I’m afraid that if we try to reverse it by going there, it may do much more damage. The lake...it’s something far beyond our control.” 

“Jaeyoung and I have spent days worth of time trying to discover whatever information we can about it,” the pixie admitted. “And each time we’ve come up empty handed. I’ve tried my best to read between the lines, to read between the link and blank page, to come up with...anything, but to no avail.” 

“He is a  _ human,”  _ Hyojin emphasized. “He is not just some  _ thing,  _ some lowly scum that deserves that sort of punishment, that we can just experiment on.” 

Yuto nodded in agreement, understanding. “Then I’m afraid we’ve exhausted all other resources, my Lord.”

The truth coiled around him like a snake that had finally gained the courage to devour its meal. He wasn’t sure what that would mean in the grand scheme of things in the long run, but it made him nervous all the same.

—

The High Lords wasted no time in gathering their things. It hadn’t even been an hour since they’d left the manor, and Seungjun was somehow already rattled by how much more lively the home had become. 

Handmaidens and attendants were laughing freely, the air felt much lighter now that the oppressive overarching sense of authority had disappeared. It was a break they most likely deserved and more, but for whatever reason the absence of familiarity made him feel overwhelmingly anxious.

The walls of the Winter Court home felt suffocating, as if they were folding in on him until there was no room left for him to think or to feel. Not that he felt much lately to begin with. Just as much as Changyoon and the others, he desperately wanted their trip to Pandora to reveal something that none of them were capable of seeing. He wanted to be himself again, wanted to feel the happiness he’d once felt, wanted to remember what it was like to be curious without also feeling suspicious of literally everyone and everything around him. 

Without even an ounce of hesitancy, he grabbed his coat and stepped into the crisp Winter air. 

—

Something about the lake didn’t seem nearly as enchanting nor bewitching during the daylight hours. The fogless forest that opened up to miles upon miles worth of water was much more dull than he initially remembered, and it was on that basis alone that he couldn’t help but wonder as to why the Fae were so terrified of it. 

He thought about that night. The pure emptiness he felt as he tore from the manor without a single thought as to where he was going, merely following his instincts until it led him here. To a much more  _ shallow  _ version, really. 

In the daylight, it almost appeared as a different place in its entirety. Although it lingered between Autumn and Winter, it somehow managed to encompass a unique harmony of both, despite the drastic difference between the two. 

In a time before this novel, unexpected life, Minkyun would have told him that both seasons could not exist without the other, and perhaps back then Seungjun would have believed him. Now, after everything he’s been permitted to see, everything he’s been through, he recognized that they have always been subtle compliments to one another. In many ways, Seungjun probably still believed that the two seasons heavily relied on one another, it was just the natural order of the world, but meeting Changyoon and Hyojin really clarified those minor differences that shaped his current perception.

Truthfully, Changyoon wasn’t like any other person he’d ever met. He was like a living fire, one that burned as tall, bright, and proud when instigated, but with that overwhelming pride came with sensitive provocation, his temper easily unleashed upon the innocent. It meant that he could hold a grudge, much stronger than Hyojin’s if he was being honest with himself, and it was just as unrelenting as the changing of seasons. Much unlike anyone else, Changyoon was like the autumn leaves that refused to give way to the harsh winter winds, dangling onto their branches for dear life, until the heavy snow would sweep him away. 

Hyojin, on the other hand, was like soft fresh powder. It was wistfully tragic, hauntingly innocent. It was truly a magnificent sight, a remarkable beauty everyone should experience at least once in their life. Although serene, for those who didn’t know better, there was also a destructive fragility. Pristine, devoid of all flaws on the outside, but easily tarnished once grazed. Much like a ripple to water, once disturbed it would take ages to remedy the disturbance. He was a lot like the lake, a mystery submerged in misunderstanding. Once you've lingered in the dark, there was no knowing who you might be when you find yourself conscious again. 

Where either of them faltered, the other was there to be his support, to catch him in the moments right before he was about to fall. 

Seeing them, studying their friendship, drove Seungjun to thinking about his friendship with Minkyun. They’d spent so much of their time together making empty promises, dreaming of a life where they were simply normal boys who’d fallen off the course of life in search of adventure. They couldn’t have been more similar, couldn’t have been more understanding of each other’s needs. He wasn’t entirely sure where it had all gone wrong. Despite their new status and the border between them, they were still friends, two people that were holding onto those desolate promises like they were an anchor to a ship. Their dreams grounded them, were supposed to remind them that underneath all the madness, beyond all of the glamours and facades, they were still them. Just two boys who simply believed in the kindness and honesty that could be upheld by another human being. Two boys that believed in the power of an escape from their lives. 

And now that they were here, living an escape they hadn’t quite expected, they quickly realized that to venture far from reality was to restore the people they’d been prior to finding one another. 

He didn’t want to believe in the superficiality of their friendship, didn’t want to believe that all of his time and effort was spent on nothing, but it was the sheer fact that he felt absolutely  _ nothing,  _ not even a whisper of remorse, as he considered the idea that they would rise out of this situation without each other. He should have felt  _ something.  _ Anything. But there was nothing to disguise the content that simmered in his veins at the thought. 

Seungjun took a deep breath, shuttering against the cold, and without even a second thought took several steps into the shallow pool of water just at the edge of the lake. Today, the water was warm, inviting almost, despite the bone numbing chill of the air around it. 

And it was the hum of a tune both familiar and not that sang in his blood. 

A distant memory calling out to him to be recognized, to be remembered. 

A brief nostalgia that he couldn’t quite place, as if he were living amidst a sudden deja vu. 

_ What if I asked you to leave with me? _

A siren’s song luring him into the great unknown, tempting him with the prospects of filling the void with everything he’d lost that night. 

_ There are...too many things I’m not willing to risk.  _


	23. looming grayness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of the high lords in one place???? omg have fun 
> 
> and yes they are k-actors. don’t judge.

“What did you just say?”

_ Soohyun, High Lord of the Day Court, scoffed. “Hyojin,  _ please,  _ don’t make me say it twice now—” _

_ Hyojin stood from his place at the High Seat. It was something much like a throne that was designated for the High Court leaders, placed neatly at key points around the rotunda.  _

_ “How  _ dare _ you accuse me of assembling the High Fae of the Unseelie Court to go against the mortal realm,” Hyojin’s voice echoed fiercely. “Have you no shame?”  _

_ “Have I made myself ill informed?” Soohyun countered.  _

_ Just a seat away, Changyoon groaned. “My Lord...you are  _ greatly  _ misinformed. As you always are. It’s like you come here to be made a fool of.”  _

_ “This matter doesn’t concern you—” _

_ “Doesn’t it?” Changyoon interrupted. “Last I checked, I am also a High Lord of the Unseelie Court.”  _

_ Changyoon stood from his own seat, stepping down into the niche just at the center of the room, two steps down from the dais. At its center was a fountain, so ornate and organic in design that it should have been crafted by nature itself.  _

_ “What evidence do you bear, High Lord, to prove that Hyojin planned this... _ insurrection?”  _ Changyoon prompted, running his fingers through the trickling water as he circumambulated the entirety of the fountain. “For as long as I’ve known him, the High Lord of Winter has done anything and everything to ensure the protection of mortal citizens. Some of you have openly scorned him. For others, you’ve privately commended him. So, please, my Lord...humor me with whatever you’ve come prepared to say.”  _

_ Changyoon was one person, but The High Lord of Autumn was a whole other being entirely. As if this dreadful chamber drew the power out of him, a confidence that hid behind snide remarks and iron hot sarcasm. Hyojin believed him to be a stranger when summoned to High Court; the friend he once knew, replaced by a force so uncanny that he’d become unrecognizable.  _

_ “You dare speak to your elder this way,” Soohyun’s voice boomed around them, Hyojin could practically feel the rush of power brushing against his skin. “I, along with two other High Lords, best you in age by at least five hundred years. Where is your respect that you once spoke so highly of?”  _

_ “Age means nothing in this gods forsaken place,” Changyoon retorted. Bored. “We all live until the magic is ripped from us, whenever nature deems us unworthy of its blessing. The centuries that we’ve lived does not define our leadership. I mean, just look at you for instance, you’ve lived a whole damn millennia and the Day Court is  _ still _ in shambles from an incident that happened prior to my reign in Autumn.”  _

_ Soohyun opened his mouth to argue further, but the words fell limp at his lips when Dareum said, “As much as any of us would  _ love  _ to sit here and listen to you two argue for hours on end, yet again, there are far for important matters that need to be discussed. That is unless the two of you would like to be here far into the night.” _

_ “That’s never stopped us before.” Changyoon shrugged as he saw his way back up onto the platform and seated in his place. Hyojin wanted to bury his head in his hands with frustration, but he wouldn’t allow the other High Lords a chance to peer into his fragile vulnerability.  _

_ “Hyojin,” Dareum spoke firmly. “Do you deny these allegations put against you?”  _

_ “Of course, my Lord.”  _

_ The High Lord of Summer nodded shallowly. “Then that’s all I need to hear regarding that particular matter. However, what  _ does  _ need to be addressed today is the nature and intent of these Unseelie rebels.”  _

_ Changyoon chuckled dryly. “If you are the monsters, then we are the devils.”  _

_ It was a particularly common phrase used within the borders of the mortal realm to distinguish the Unseelie Court from the Seelie. At the very least, the Seelie were posed to be benevolent, while the tales of the Unseelie have continued to be shrouded in a dense darkness. From it came countless misunderstandings, but it was incidents such as this, people such as these rebels, that made it hard for others to believe that the Unseelie aren’t all malicious.  _

_ “The answer is quite simple, unfortunately,” Hyojin began. “The well of prejudice runs far deeper in the Unseelie Court. Those that have lived there their entire lives, raised by our traditionalist forefathers, have been conditioned by their values and morals. I, upon coming into power in the Winter Court, officially banned the trafficking of mortals into the Unseelie Court. While my predecessor made subtle moves to abolish the practice, nothing was ever put into writing. Their lives mean much more than a lifetime of servitude in an unfamiliar place. And I imagine the root of the rebels’ anger stems from those values that they had ceased to abandon.”  _

_ “I must say,” Inyeop, High Lord of the Night Court, commented. “It sure is a sight...to witness a High Lord of your calibre, bravely go against everything your people have only ever known.”  _

_ “I am not the first,” Hyojin reminds. “You, more than anyone else, should be equipped to remember.”  _

_ Inyeop crossed one leg over the other, an amused smirk growing on his cat-like face. “You may not be the first to side with the mortals, but you  _ are _ the first to manifest your beliefs into written law. And you all wonder why the people rebel.”  _

_ “It is no excuse,” Changyoon chimed in.  _

_ “You have completely undone hundreds of thousands of years worth of their culture, surely they have some reason to be upset.” _

_ “And that makes it right?” Hyojin asked. “Appeasing those who have no right to destroy another person’s life? All for the sake of culture?”  _

_ Inyeop chuckled. “Dear High Lord...you believe everyone has the same heart as you. You wear it on your sleeve for the universe to see, to judge, as if you’re crying out to anything that might possibly understand it. And perhaps, if you were mortal, there would be someone who would understand your sentiments. People who understand compassion and empathy. But the Fae are not those people.”  _

—

“Gods, can we please have  _ one  _ month where we don’t have to attend High Court unexpectedly?” 

Hearing Changyoon whine as they ascended the steps into the temple came as no surprise, but seeing Inyeop and Dareum perched at the top of the steps was enough of a surprise to stop Hyojin in his tracks. 

“You mean to tell me you two are actually sitting on the floor?” Changyoon shunned, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I mean I guess that’s where you two belong, but you have actually stooped this low?” 

Dareum pushed himself up from the stone steps, not even bothering to brush away the thin layer of dust. “I suppose it’s better to be sitting out here than inside with Soohyun and Joohyuk.” 

“They’re here already?” Hyojin asked, a mild sense of surprise washing over him. “That’s unusual.” 

“Not as unusual as it is for you two to be showing up this late.” 

Changyoon rolled his eyes. “Gods forbid we have lives outside of servicing the High Court.” 

Inyeop, who still sat comfortable on the edge of a step, chuckled. “I didn’t realize that the Unseelie did anything these days. You’ve been unusually quiet. Even Yuto hasn’t come around bearing any messages from either of you.” 

“Take that as a compliment,” Dareum whispered between them, interjecting before Changyoon could spew any sarcastic nonsense. 

The relationship between the High Lords has always been rather complicated. None of them were friends by any means. If the ordinary High Fae didn’t trust one another, their High Lords certainly refrained from bestowing their own trust in each other. Power drove people to do things they once never imagined they’d be capable of doing. 

The establishment of the Fae-mortal alliance caused a rift that was borderline abysmal. Not just between the Fae and the mortals, or the Unseelie and the Seelie, but between their High Lords as well. The strength of their minimal trust in one another had weakened immensely, and a much greater, daunting lack of weight for their respective titles had pinned them against each other. 

“So which one of you decided it was a good idea to arrange a summons so soon after our official time?” Changyoon asked, he sounded more disinterested than annoyed. 

Inyeop suddenly pushed himself up from the steps, dusting away the fine remnants of dirt that Dareum so willingly ignored. “Soohyun and Joohyuk already had an audience with the Queen prior to her departure to the Middle Realm. Seeing that Dareum and I have already weeded each other out, and since the confusion and disappointment is so readily apparent on Changyoon’s face, we figured it has to be one of them.” 

“Wait…” Hyojin blurted out. “The Queen isn’t joining us for High Court? That’s a bit odd, don’t you think?” 

Dareum folded his arms across his chest, something short of contemplation knitting his brows together. “Apparently the matter was urgent. Plus, it’s not like we haven’t attended a summons without her in attendance.” 

_ “Rarely…”  _ Changyoon emphasized. 

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Hyojin sighed. “It’s too soon.” 

Inyeop shrugged. “Let’s just be grateful that she won’t be in attendance for once. Anyways, it’s not like any of us have anything to hide.” 

Changyoon cleared his throat in a manner that demanded that Hyojin keep his gaze steady. And it truly  _ did _ take everything in him to keep from fumbling, to keep his breathing steady, to pretend as if everything were perfectly and inherently normal. If something was out of place, even something as minute as the change in his breathing patterns, Hyojin knew either of the High Lord’s before him would sense it. 

“Let’s go in and get this over with…” Inyeop groaned as he stretched his arms above his head. 

“Finally,” Changyoon gasped. “Something we actually agree on.”

—

The air was absolutely suffocating in the chambers of High Court. 

Suddenly, Hyojin was beginning to notice all of the minor details of the room that he’d never once spared too much attention. The difference in the near identical, deep cerulean tiles that were etched into the niche at the center of the room. The subtle height inconsistencies between each of their chairs. The scuffs in his brand new dress shoes. 

The weight of Changyoon’s gaze was a lot like someone pushing down on his shoulders, as if trying to remind him to correct his posture. Not that his spine could get any straighter as this rate.

They’d been seated for nearly twenty minutes, and the remaining High Lord’s littered about the room, discussing this and that, as they waited for the meeting to begin. And in that time Hyojin had cycled through dozens of reasons for why either of the two eldest High Lord’s would summon them so suddenly. 

“You’re too in your head, Hyo…” Changyoon gritted through his teeth. 

Hyojin shuttered a breath, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. And he couldn’t help but startle when Changyoon suddenly appeared before him, crouching down, resting his arms on Hyojin’s lap. 

The Autumn High Lord lowered his voice, and he said, “You can’t do this, Hyo. Not here.  _ Especially  _ here. You’re the High Lord of Winter, show these assholes that you cannot be intimidated by their advancements.” Changyoon wrapped his fingers around Hyojin’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “You stood up against each of these men in the war. Whatever happens here today, you  _ are  _ that very same person.” 

Once Changyoon had returned to his seat, and the meeting had started, Hyojin could feel himself relax against the weight of the world. 

And it was just as the attendant was about to ring the gong, signaling the start of the session, that the doors flung open. Yuto stumbled in, his chest heaving as he swallowed breath after breath. 

Each of the High Lord’s immediately stood from their seats, an ominous aura mixed with confusion and hesitancy filled the chamber at the messenger’s sudden and unexpected appearance. 

“Y-Yuto…” Soohyun sputtered. “What are you—”

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” Yuto mumbled, still trying to catch his breath. “A–I have a message for the Unseelie High Lords…”

Suddenly, all eyes were on them, as Yuto crossed the room to hand them both a single scroll. 

_ “Yuto…”  _ Hyojin gasped, the messenger’s name hung breathlessly in the air between them. His fingers trembled as he reached out for the message. 

“My Lords...I’m sorry.” Yuto quickly bowed. He lowered his voice when he said, “I’m afraid I might be too late. I don’t know how much time has passed since I heard the news.” 

Changyoon practically ripped the scroll from Hyojin’s hands at the vague statement, unfurling it haphazardly. And it was the way Changyoon paled under the dense glamour that prompted Hyojin into motion. 

He glanced down at the parchment, which was completely and utterly blank, save for two simple remarks. 

_ The Pandorian Royal Militia has entered The Dark Forest. They are closing in on the Unseelie border.  _


	24. cosmic.

_ “Leave…” _

It was the first thing Hyojin said to Seungjun once he and Changyoon had winnowed back to the manor. 

“Excuse me?” 

Hyojin’s steps were hasty, adrenaline prompting him forward in large sweeping strides. Once he was within arms reach, he grabbed the mortal prince by the collar, his nails barely grazing the fragile skin just before it. 

“Get your things,” he growled, his grip growing firmer. “You have to leave—”

Seungjun shoved him away. “What—what the hell is going on? Don’t any of you think it may be important to keep me informed?” 

Changyoon wrapped his hand around Seungjun’s wrist, tugging him forward. “We’ll explain along the way.” 

_ “Stop!”  _

Time seemed to stand still as the prince’s voice echoed through the hall, ricocheting off the walls like stray bullets. The High Lords, along with Yuto, waited hesitantly in the crimson hall. 

_ “Gods…” _ Seungjun cried. “How many times do I have to say it? I don’t ask either of you for… _ anything.  _ So, for the love of god, please just give me something to go off of. I can’t help but panic when you all act like this...the world could be coming to an end outside and you still wouldn’t tell me if I didn’t demand it.” 

Changyoon sighed, dropping his hand at his side. “The time has come for you to leave, Seungjun. And unfortunately, under the circumstances, you are going to have to leave on your own volition. We will take you to the border, but you will need to step across it yourself.” 

“The mortal prince…” Yuto inserted. “He has brought The Royal Militia to our borders, and has demanded you as remission.” 

“That is not his decision to make, he has not right to be making demands—”

“You think that matters?” Hyojin scoffed. “That someone like  _ him _ would consider your preferences? Someone who assumes that you are likely miserable and mistreated?  _ Brainwashed.”  _

A tear slipped down Seungjun’s face, and the mortal prince took several heavy steps forward until they were nearly face to face. In a hushed tone, he said, “At least he cares for me. His ideals and morals have become a bit twisted ever since he entered the palace, but I can’t say at all that I’m shocked. The palace, those people, it’s nothing but business with them. They try to wear you down, condition you until there’s absolutely nothing left of your soul. And Minkyun has fallen victim to it all. It could have been me,  _ should  _ have been me, but I’ve spent too much time outside of the palace to understand that the world is much more than the mindset of a singular culture.” 

“And we don’t care for you?” 

The question was like a slap across the face, which sent Seungjun stumbling back. 

Of everything he’d said...

“You know better than anyone else that everyone displayed their care or gratitude differently...” Hyojin paused, all of the words he wanted to say getting stuck like a lump at the back of his throat, the same kind you feel when you’re moments away from breaking down into nothing. After taking a deep breath and recollecting himself, with great frustration, he went on to say, “And after all of this time, you _still_ believe us to be indifferent. After _everything_ we’ve done for you...we’ve fed you; clothed you; provided you shelter; spent countless hours agonizing over texts and scrolls, whatever information we could get our hands on, to understand what has happened to you, what this land has stolen from you. To understand _why._ And yet, the only person in the world who cares about you is _him._ Someone who embodies the blind callous distaste for Fae like us. Someone who knows nothing of our character, knows nothing of the Fae other than what’s been presented through history…”

Seungjun was reminded of his first night in Faerie, when Hyojin had scolded him for being ungrateful; somehow this conversation felt a lot like that. He was reminded of his greater sense of disappointment for allowing his frustrations to be spoken aloud so easily, for letting his guard down and letting his vulnerability chafe against whatever chance they had at being friends. Now, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself for an entirely different reason. He knew that Hyojin was right. The High Lords had done everything in their power to shield him from anything that might cause him harm, and managed to maintain his secrecy for the entirety of his stay. 

On any other given day, perhaps Hyojin’s words would not have phased him. He liked to think they rarely did. But it was the look of complete and utter loss that was etched into the High Lord’s face that stirred something deeply uncomfortable in Seungjun’s gut. 

After a long moment of silence, Hyojin’s voice trembled as he simply said, “I don’t care if you’re grateful or not. At the end of all of this, I just wanted you to be able to leave with the same spirit you’d arrived with, and I will openly admit that I have failed you. There are no words to express how sorry I am. A thousand times over, I am sorry. You must leave. To maintain the peace between us and the mortal realm, you  _ must _ go.” 

Changyoon stepped forward. Almost like a heavy curtain closing after a grand show, Changyoon’s glamour disappeared before his very eyes. Where there once was a messy collage of blondes and ashy browns, deep gray-black hair took its place. It was rather appropriate, the darkness that lingered behind a light that was desperate to be seen. “We have spent much of our lives fighting, boy. This is something we can easily avoid as long as you go with them—”

“And what if I decide against it?” Seungjun countered. “It is neither his decision, nor your own, as to whether or not I stay or go.” 

“You are  _ their  _ prince, Seungjun…” Hyojin stated matter of factly. “This is not just about you, it’s about the people on the other side of that wall. You cannot let a young man, who’s finally had a taste of what power is really like, how addictive it can be, destroy a reputation you’ve spent your entire life desperately trying to maintain.  _ We  _ fought in a long and treacherous war to show the world that we are on your side, to  _ prove _ that we are not the monsters that time has made us out to be…please don’t let him undermine everything that we fought for, everything that your people fought for alongside us, everything that a  _ king  _ of  _ your _ bloodline fought to protect with his dying breath on that battlefield. For the love of all that is good, which I know you are, please...leave.” 

“Hyojin…” Seungjun whispered.  _ “Please.”  _

“Neither of us can forcibly make you leave,” Hyojin took a step back, widening the gap between them. “You must leave in your own right, making your own conscious decision. I trust you will do what is right.” 

_ “Wait— _ the Royal Passing—”

“No fight is worth holding you accountable to the deal you made with Hyojin,” Changyoon admitted, almost solemnly. “If Minkyun attempts to strike against our border, the Unseelie will not hesitate to defend their home.  _ Especially  _ against mortals. Just this once, for the sake of our world and yours, I ask you to abandon your selfishness, leave it here. Make no mistake, the decision you make here today will not go unforgotten.” 

“My Lord—”

“It will be here for whenever you’d like to return,  _ we  _ will be here,” Changyoon silently promised. He didn’t say the words, wouldn’t even dream of breathing them, but it was enough. It was more than enough to instill the hope that they would not abandon him. “It is as Hyojin said, we cannot force you to leave. Nonetheless, we are selflessly asking that you seriously consider what is at stake.” 

For the first time in a while, Seungjun’s heart twisted, as if it were a fire that was being suffocated until there was nothing left but smoke. It didn’t shatter, Seungjun’s heart wasn’t that fragile, but rather it felt like all of the feelings that he’d lost were suddenly finding their way back home after abandoning him like he were nothing, fading into him one by one. And it was painful. It tore at him like a harsh wind through autumn leaves, or a violent current at the base of a calm river in summer. 

Although their faces appeared neutral, Seungjun had grown used to reading the eyes. He’d had so much practice at it his whole life, he almost couldn’t believe his patience in observing the palace staff had actually paid off. His good friend was sadness, it had accompanied him and his overwhelming loneliness for as long as he could remember. It was almost enough to tell them that he couldn’t leave, that he would wait until the duration of their deal to play out, for there was no mistaking the familiarity of those feelings in the eyes of the people he’d unexpectedly grown to care for. 

—

They’d agreed to leave once the sun had officially set. It would mean having to embrace the bone chilling cold of Pandora, but Changyoon said they couldn’t risk drawing the attention of the larger Winter Court population. To further maintain their control over their caution, Changyoon had offered to winnow them to the border. It would require some extra effort, but he claimed it would be worth it to keep the extra attention from lingering at their backs. 

Goodbyes were already hard enough, so Seungjun didn’t bother bidding his farewells to either Yuto or Jaeyoung. Saying goodbye to them would hurt something much more fierce than parting ways with the High Lords. More than anything else, they were his friends. They stayed by his side when he needed clarity, when he desperately needed people to cling to when things appeared to fall apart. They let him lean on them, and it was more hospitality he’d ever experienced than all of his time within the confines of the Pandorian palace. 

There was no more time to look back, to linger, to savor what freedom had been given to him. It was the most precious gift anyone had ever bestowed upon him, whether or not he cared to admit it. There wasn’t a single word in their language that could fully describe the gratitude and appreciation he carried in his heart. It was a weight; a heavy one, but reassuring all the same. 

So, for the last time, Seungjun took Changyoon’s hand, who squeezed it a little tighter this time, and let the world swallow him whole. 

Until he collapsed upon himself like a star folding into black hole. 

A singular flame, snuffed out by fiercely crushed dreams. 

Sea foam that tirelessly ached for the shoreline...swept away by forces much grander than itself. 


	25. dreamscapes unknown.

Darkness hung over them like a warm blanket. Even though it was comforting, the thought of having to abandon the warmth of a world Seungjun had grown attached to was daunting. He wasn’t quite ready to brace himself for the cold. 

Something about the air between the border of Faerie and Pandora was eerily still. As if life itself ceased to live. Plant’s didn’t grow there, even the smallest forms of life avoided its invisible barrier. It was neither a living thing nor an accomplice of death. Rather, it merely existed, much like a shield. 

It was his first time seeing it, perhaps his only time, and while it did appear underwhelming, he was glad to know that his curiosity was finally quenched after all of this time.

Despite the rush and panic of the High Lords, Minkyun was nowhere to be seen. The tall cedar trees were dense, so thick and lush that perhaps his poor mortal eyesight just couldn’t register anything in the pitch darkness. 

“Don’t be fooled,” Changyoon warned as he observed the young mortal prince. “This border acts as a sort of camouflage, it’s how the magic protects itself, protects Faerie. Almost like a two way mirror, it reflects itself from one side to keep those who may be tempted from crossing over.” 

“I thought a mortal couldn’t pass through the border without the help of a Fae escort?” 

Changyoon lightly shrugged. “Not necessarily. The only thing that prevents mortals from crossing is their own resistance to what may lie on the other side. Your heart must willingly and truthfully accept the fact that it will be crossing into our realm. It is for that reason alone that we cannot forcibly bring mortals in and out of the realm.” 

“And what of the Unseelie who  _ did _ bring in mortals against their will?” Seungjun pressed. “How does that work?” 

The Autumn High Lord shuttered with something like disgust. “The Power of a Name...I told you once that you should not use that ability lightly. The Unseelie have done terrible things to mortals and lower Fae alike all across the globe, it’s through that ability alone that they are able to convince the heart of things that it may never dream of.” 

Seungjun realized far too late that he was blessed by the gods to have been in the care of two progressive High Lords. Two people who cared for the people, regardless of their cultures, or how and where they were born. Yet, the price for such empathy and acceptance came with insecurities carved so deep into their ancient souls that it was difficult to dig through the layers of their true nature. 

_ “Thank you…”  _ Seungjun blurted out, his voice as soft as a whisper of the wind brushing up against the autumn leaves. He turned to face the High Lords who stood a healthy distance behind him. “To the both of you. Without you, I don’t know where I’d be,  _ who  _ I’d be. If I had met any other person in The Dark Forest that day, I don’t even know if Minkyun and I would be alive. You found a way to maintain my life, and while I am indebted to Minkyun for the rest of it, I am grateful to have met you, for the great lengths both of you went to for me. I genuinely hope to have the chance to repay that kindness one day.” 

“This isn’t goodbye, you know,” Changyoon tried to reassure. And Seungjun appreciated the effort, but it still felt like the end regardless. “Don’t forget, we know where you live.” 

Seungjun couldn’t help but laugh as his eyes shifted to Hyojin, who appeared just as stoic and neutral as he always did. The unfeeling High Lord of Winter. That’s how the Winter Court citizens referred to him. But that’s not at all how Seungjun saw him. Not unfeeling, but wounded. Guarded. There was so much beneath the thick glamour, and the walls constructed just beyond it, for the world to discover. Underneath the person he desperately wanted the world to see was a man bound to a great unrelenting pain, something so tragic and sound, you didn’t need to see it to feel it. 

“There is nothing to repay,” Hyojin stated. “Focus on being a king that the world will come to admire. The world needs more people like you.” 

Changyoon said that this wasn’t a goodbye, but the air was heavy, like a hardback cover that was far too weighted to remain propped open on its own. The pages dwindle more and more, reaching the end of this particular story. 

This wasn’t just goodbye, but something much harder. 

Seungjun half turned, just enough for him to stretch out his arm,m in curiosity, his fingers just close enough to scathe the invisible barrier between him and reality. He expected to meet a smooth, dry surface beneath the pads of his fingers. Instead the sensation was cooling, as if he were running his fingers through lukewarm water that had been left out for the animals that lurked about the Royal courtyard. 

Taking another step forward, his hand met no resistance, appearing to be swallowed whole by the guard. 

“It’s time…” Changyoon confirmed. 

The prince didn’t mean to withdraw his hand back as fast as he did. It felt like he was admitting a truth that he himself wasn’t prepared to confront. Whether or not the High Lords seemed to understand was beyond him, the blank stare on their faces only seemed to be a confirmation that they hadn’t. 

“The longer you wait, the harder this is going to be for you,” Hyojin advised. Then, after a long pause, “And us.” 

Seungjun turned his back to them, hoping that ignoring their presence would make this leap of faith that much easier, but he quickly learned that wasn’t the case. 

“You are not alone in this world, Pandorian prince,” Hyojin stated, his voice clear and soft. “You have never been alone. There has been and always will be someone by your side.  _ On _ your side. And that’s where we will be.” 

“I thought the Fae couldn’t lie…” Seungjun chuckled nervously. 

“It would be so much easier if we could,” Hyojin admitted defeatedly. 

—

Seungjun’s body felt  _ heavy  _ as he passed through the border between Faerie and Pandora, his legs giving out the moment he took his first breath of air. 

“Seungjun!” A familiar voice exclaimed. 

His eyes were heavy with sleep. Sadness. Conflict. Frankly, he was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but he would have never expected stepping through the border alone to be this stripping.

He could feel himself giving into the weight of sleep as his eyes fluttered. 

Minkyun scooped the prince up in his arms, his voice sounding far away as he said, “Come on, Jun…you’ve got to stay awake. Stay with me.” 

The lines of Minkyun’s face blurred softly. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or he thought that there might have been tears in his eyes, but the last thing he remembered before giving into sleep’s seductive song was looking back. 

Only to find nothing,  _ no one  _ there. Just a mere trick of the eye that guarded a world so frighteningly wonderful from the Pandorian people. People like him. 

A trick of the eye. An illusion. 

And it hurt to think that maybe, just  _ maybe,  _ everything he’d known was nothing but a dream. An enchanting nightmare that he hoped to never wake. 


	26. reconciliation.

[One Mortal Year Later]

“Your Highness!!” A random guard bellowed, chasing the mortal prince across the courtyard. 

Seungjun almost felt bad, especially since the guard was brand new and it was his first day on the job, but seeing how this was most likely going to be his only excitement for the day, he continued to sprint across the gravel until he barely cleared the front gates. He managed to break through at the last second, just before the gates were forced closed, only to be opened once more for the Royal guard to chase after him. 

His legs remembered the paths he’d spent his whole life exploring, deciding which ones were the most discreet, which ones were truly ideal for evading the Royal guard at all costs, and he managed to follow his rather sharp muscle memory until he was nearly out of the city. He was far more out of breath than he anticipated, but the burn in his lungs reminded him that fire was much lighter than stone. That his freedom, and however he may choose to explore it, was much more valuable than any mortal title.

He’d returned to his life as if nothing had happened. No one suspected that anything was out of the ordinary, especially after Minkyun impressively, but painstakingly convinced the Royal doctors that he must have misplaced his memories after hitting his head while he and the militia were out on an evening hunt. And as a reward, for many things that he couldn’t spare the energy to shuffle through at the time, Seungjun appointed Minkyun to his private council. 

Despite his friend’s lack of noble status, he couldn’t just ask Minkyun to leave. It was selfish, but his family already believed him to be dead, or perhaps stolen away into a world they’d never be able to understand; additionally, he was the only person in the world that he could talk to who had been properly informed on the current state of affairs. He’d been away for far too long for him to be able to uphold any sort of conversation with any of the noble families that visited often. Least of all discuss business and trade deals. 

And although they weren’t necessarily on speaking terms, at the very least Seungjun acknowledged that Minkyun had the high ground, and they would have to lean on one another to get through the first few years of his reacclimation. 

Once he was sure he was out of range from the Royal guard, Seungjun slowed to a halt. Initially, instinctively, he thought he’d been headed to the waterfalls, a place he admittedly hadn’t been able to bring himself to visit ever since his arrival in Pandora. There were so many fond memories associated with them, and was once a place that Seungjun sought comfort in, crying out to the forces of nature to spare him from a life he couldn’t help but be born into. Now, it was nothing but a painful reminder, nothing but a scrap of land that the Royal family couldn’t be bothered with bulldozing because of the natural resources it had to offer.

It was a place he once felt freer than wind, only to be shaken awake by the reality that it still fell under Pandora’s jurisdiction. That it too was nothing more than a pawn in a game far too complicated for a _mere_ _prince_ to understand. 

When he came to his senses, it didn’t take long for him to process where he was. Yet another painful reminder. 

The edge of the city opened up to a vast clearing, littered with long tendrils of pale weeds, the grass long dead from the endless drought. And just beyond it was The Dark Forest. What once rattled his nerves to his very core, now glimmered tragically like a beacon of hope smothered by the evening fog.

“Long time, no see,” Seungjun muttered under his breath. 

—

Changyoon  _ loathed  _ having to adjust to the Pandorian air, there was just no getting used to it. No matter how badly he desired to convince himself that he could. He could visit every single day for the duration of his life and it would still feel obtrusive. 

On the other hand, something that never ceased to surprise him was the mortal realm’s overwhelming consistency. Nothing ever appeared to change each time he found himself here; it were almost as though he were walking through a bittersweet memory. While the colors of the small business and homes seemed to fade naturally with time, and its inhabitants come and go, everything remained perfectly intact. 

Pandora was unlike Faerie is damn near every sense of the word. The most obvious being the flow of time. In the mortal realm, things aged much more rapidly than they did on Faerie. Perhaps it was nature’s way of accommodating the hasty impatience that lived at the center of the mortal lifestyle, a curse hidden in plain sight to punish them for their greed. To the mortals, time meant absolutely nothing to them, even though many seemed to believe there just wasn’t enough of it. The logic in and of itself was enough to make Changyoon roll his eyes. 

The fae was reminded of the prince’s startling and unrelenting curiosity. His ambitious desire to understand every little thing about his life,  _ their _ lives, and everything else in between. Much of which was truthfully none of his business, but his unrelenting behavior was admirable enough. He’d known a many number of mortals throughout his life, fought alongside many who weren’t allowed to question a single thing they were told, yet no one held a candle to Seungjun’s personality. A young, untested Royal whose only strength may actually be being overly curious. His very own fatal flaw. 

“My Lord…” Yuto muttered, grabbing ahold of his wrist as they squeezed between the heavy crowd of market goers. It was the last day of the week, which meant it was bound to be busier than most other days. “Please, let me go ahead of you.” 

The High Lord chuckled, wrapping his fingers securely around Yuto’s own wrist. “That’s not necessary, Yuto. Mortals are harmless.” 

The messenger rolled his eyes, but didn’t press the concern any further. 

“Besides, we’re just here to make sure nothing is amiss,” Changyoon stated plainly. “If anything  _ were _ to happen, I think we could easily take a few measly mortals.” 

Yuto merely continued to steer between people from behind, gazing at what today’s market had to offer. Even though neither of them were relatively concerned with human trinkets. The quality could never best the craftsmanship of Faerie artisans. 

They were just about to turn down another alleyway when a loud echoing crash came from the other end of the plaza. 

_ “Stop! In the name of the King!”  _

Changyoon’s attention snagged on a deceptively familiar head of brunette hair, which was bobbing and weaving through the crowd as if its life depended on it. 

It took the High Lord a long moment to realize he was squeezing the messenger’s wrist so tightly that his knuckles were stark white. Whipping his head in his direction, Changyoon opened his mouth to apologize, “Yuto—”

And before he could even bring himself to say the words, Yuto slipped out of his grasp, his eyes instinctively following the disruption. “Already on it, my Lord.” 

Yuto darted in the opposite direction, likely trying to find a way around the crowd which would lead him around to the other side of the shopping district. And without even processing where he was,  _ who  _ he was, Changyoon was mere moments away from winnowing himself over there. That was until the gravity of their situation finally calmed his anxiety, reminding himself that they were no longer in Faerie, and the exposure of his abilities to the human realm during a time of peace could come with consequences that he didn’t even want to dream of. 

Instead, he frantically pushed his way through people both ignorant to and angered by his aggressive stride. He was too distracted by the thundering of his heart in his chest to even mutter a half-assed apology. Their feelings, their daily hindrances, and the annoyance they surely knew was merely microscopic in his much grander world, and the problems that accompanied it. Once he cleared the thick sea of people, he sprinted through the remainder of the path until another body crashed into him. 

With a groan, Yuto stood, offering a hand to help him up. “My Lord...I’m so sorry—”

“There’s no time for that,” Changyoon replied bitterly. Impatiently. 

Their chests heaved with fatigue. Frankly, it had been quite a long time since he’d broken out into a run like that; there was no ignoring the subtle burn that began to grow in his thighs. 

After taking a moment to recollect themselves, it dawned on them that the city was suddenly quiet. The lack of commotion led the High Lord to believe that the Royal guard had lost whoever they’d been chasing, and  _ if _ that person truly had been the prince, Changyoon couldn’t help but feel relieved at the idea that he likely managed to get away. 

He recalled Seungjun’s explosive emotions whenever he finally seemed to break through to them; it was clear—the difficulties and insecurities he faced as this region’s prince, most of which Changyoon had to glean for himself solely because the prince seemed to enjoy being thoroughly cryptic. Yet, he would have never guessed that  _ this _ may have been the reality he had to wake up to on a daily basis. That a person of such privileged and upscale status would have to outrun his own guard. 

Changyoon sighed. “Let’s get going, I think we’ve seen enough for one day.” 

They dragged their feet along the cobblestone path for what felt like hours. Admittedly, he was far more exhausted mentally than he was physically. Coming to the mortal realm took everything out of him, took far more magic to fuel the glamour, but simultaneously having to drown that excess magic to keep the thrum of it from alerting those around them. 

As they reached the outskirts of the city, he could feel Yuto’s curious stare burning a hole into the back of his head, probably wondering why they decided to walk instead of just winnowing back, but frankly Changyoon was too tired to even do that. He knew Yuto wouldn’t ask, not because he couldn’t or because he felt far too lesser than to speak up, but because naturally the pixie was soft spoken, a man of few words. And for that he was grateful. 

Besides, he figured walking would stretch out his overly stiff muscles. 

_ “My Lord—” _

But Changyoon saw him before Yuto could get the rest of the sentence out of his mouth. 

Even from behind, the young Pandorian prince looked as if he hadn’t aged a day, as if they’d just seen each other hours prior. It was like time hadn’t passed at all. Changyoon knew that wasn’t the case, and knew very well that a whole year had come and gone since Seungjun had stepped through the threshold at the Autumn Court border. It was the last time he or Hyojin had seen the mortal prince. 

Until now. 

And for whatever reason, Changyoon could feel himself growing anxious. His fingers trembled with nerves; he was terrified of the unknown—what had happened to Seungjun after he’d left Faerie; Minkyun’s whereabouts; if Seungjun had found it somewhere in his heart to forgive the boy for what he’d said. Even Changyoon had agreed that the comment wasn’t as offensive as Seungjun may have believed it to be. Everything about the situation just felt overwhelmingly...strange. 

He’d spent so much time with the young mortal prince, had grown to care for him in a way he never thought possible for an Unseelie fae. And yet, he stood before the Pandorian Royal in an air of mystery. 

Two strangers with distant memories. 

No matter how strong the pull, the comfort and familiarity of his presence, there was no mistaking the distance they’d put between one another. 

Whether it was done so willingly or unconsciously, wariness seeped into his blood like a deadly toxin. 

The High Lord took several  _ heavy _ hesitant steps forward, down the shallow grade of the hill, towards the prince. His heart pounded in his chest fiercely, as if someone were taking an axe to his chest, and the ache it produced settled quickly. 

Taking a shaky intake of breath, Changyoon tilted his head, trying to get a better look at his strange companion. When he finally let his lungs breathe against the strain, his voice was raspy as he said,  _ “S—Seungjun…” _

The mortal startled. It was when he turned to face them that Changyoon’s heart damn near stopped in his chest;  _ sank _ like a rock tossed into the waters of a violent sea. 

With wide eyes, Seungjun’s exhaustion rich face dimly lit up with surprise. 

His voice, while trembling, was filled with so much relief. It reminded the High Lord of the many young men that served alongside him in the war, young souls and hearts that had been stolen, opinions and concerns they could no longer share for as long as they intended to serve. Seungjun was exactly that, a young voice, full of life and drive,  _ stolen _ —and finally returned to him. A weight he likely had been dragging around for hours. 

Days. 

Perhaps the entire year. 

_ “Changyoon.”  _


	27. howling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW // implications of abuse

A tear slowly trickled down Seungjun’s pale face. The Earth was still, unnervingly silent as it sealed them away into a place only they could possibly know. 

“It—it’s really you…” he rasped.  _ “Right?  _ For the love of the gods—”

Without any ounce of thought, or regret, Changyoon rushed forward and pulled the prince of Pandora into his embrace. “It’s us...it’s really us.” 

Something like a sob slipped out of the mortal prince, and Changyoon’s heart twisted uncomfortably at the thought that Seungjun had been struggling so intensely for this long. Alone. 

“It’s so good to see you...” the High Lord whispered, his voice tight in his throat. 

Seungjun stepped back, wiping his face roughly with the heels of his palms. “I know it hasn’t been that long for you, since we’ve seen each other…” the young prince took a deep breath, composing himself until he was sure he could manage just a sentence. “But this has truly been the longest year of my life.” 

And if it weren’t for the physical markers that were etched  _ deep  _ into Seungjun’s features, Changyoon may have not believed him. From the time they’d met, up until the moment Seungjun passed through the border, he’d always believed that the prince was the type of person to manufacture his own facade. A sturdy wall between himself and reality, very much like a glamour of his own, acting as a mask to hide his emotions. It wasn’t until Seungjun recoiled deeper and deeper into him during the latter half of his stay in Faerie that Changyoon realized the mortal prince had always been a bright light, guiding them through a darkness that only they could possibly understand. 

The High Lord smoothed the younger’s hair, hoping it would offer any form of consolation that it could. “You’re doing the best you can. Despite everything you’ve been through, you’re managing. That’s all the universe can really ask of you.” 

“Gods, you two must think I’m really pathetic,” Seungjun chuckled, his eyes moving past the High Lord’s shoulder to acknowledge Yuto. “I didn’t think I would be this emotional...but I suppose I really believed I would never see any of you again. In this life anyways.” 

Yuto came closer, aligning himself with the High Lord. “On that day, the High Lords told you that you would never be alone in this world, that  _ someone  _ would always be by your side. I would like to hope that you seeing us here, in the flesh,  _ now  _ is enough of a testament to the truths they have tried to uphold.”

_ The Fae cannot lie.  _ He’d habitually reminded himself over the past year. 

“I will always be eternally grateful,” Seungjun said, pushing his hand through his wind blown hair. “Just seeing the two of you is such a wonderful reminder that everything I went through wasn’t something I merely dreamed of on any given night. That those hardships weren’t an invention of my infinitely poor imagination.” 

Changyoon smiled sadly, unable to hide the regret and sorrow that raged in his delicate Fae heart. It thrashed and pulled against him like violent waves, which was nothing short of uncontrollably terrifying. It was truly a whirlwind, seeing and hearing everything the Pandorian prince had to offer, but putting the two together made seeing and believing the truth of his life that more difficult. For the first time in a very long time, he almost wished he could truthfully feign ignorance. 

He bit down on his lip, a shaky and nervous breath trapped behind it. His voice was quiet as he asked, “What have they done to you?” 

The Pandorian prince only seemed to share the sentiments as his face fell with grief and despair. Suddenly evading the eyes of Fae for as long as he could. 

—

“Again,”  _ his father demanded.  _

_ The servants had awoken him far too early in the morning. It was still dark out when a young handmaiden he vaguely recognized practically pulled him out of bed. Sitting on the bench, which was placed just at the foot of the bed, was Seungjun’s training uniform.  _

_ His heart sank at the sight, knowing and dreading that he would be spending the entire day not only with his weapons trainer, but his father as well.  _

_ Seungjun took a deep breath, correcting his posture just enough to be noticeably different from his last shot. He set the arrow against the string of his bow, pulling it back slowly. Steadily. And as much as he wanted to concentrate fully on the target ahead, there was no driving away the discomfort of his father’s intense glare burning a hole into the back of his head, almost as if he were trying to reach in and see his mind, to hear his thoughts.  _

_ The prince let the arrow soar, flying across the room, and a thrill went through him as the arrow found its home in the center of the target; the servant at the end of the field lifting the white flag, indicating a direct hit.  _

_ Seungjun turned, his excitement painted clearly on his face, to face his father. Hoping this attempt would be more satisfactory than the last.  _

_ But disappointment and shock coursed through him, like lightning to the heart, when he found his father’s seat empty, a swift and hot hand knocking him down to his knees. The rumbling of a distant thunder in the back of his mind shrinking him down into nothing.  _

_ “You think  _ that  _ is worth celebrating?” He bellowed. “When you finally manage to make a shot like that in nearly half the time or more, you will be given the praise you deserve.”  _

_ He knew better than to talk back, especially with his father’s temper flaring as profoundly as this, first thing in the morning.  _

—

“Everyday is a constant fight,” Seungjun admitted. “To live. To persist. To recognize that your life means more to others than the value you place on yourself. I’m sure those of you that are High Lords know that better than anyone else in the world. The life of royalty is not as grand as people believe it to be. Luckily for me however, my father’s lifespan is much shorter than yours.” 

Changyoon couldn’t hold in his laughter, but his heart bled all the same. “It doesn’t make it any easier, I suppose. Family is family, even if our hearts feel less inclined to be in their company. Hyojin has always maintained the idea that we are not obligated to love them, that we shouldn’t feel pressure to feel something that we cannot, especially once we become adults—now that we are fully capable of understanding that everything they’ve ever done for us,  _ to  _ us, is not always truly in our best interest.”

Seungjun’s face perked up a bit, his eyes roaming the tall stalks of grass. “Is—did Hyojin come as well?”

Changyoon exchanged a look with Yuto, and it must have been the silence between them that lingered a moment too long, or perhaps it was the despondency that flowed between them like the evening breeze in summer, but the answer was as clear as day. “He wasn’t able to come, Seungjun. I’m sorry—”

“I figured he wouldn’t,” he cut in. “I know it’s hard for him.” 

Clearing his throat, Yuto stepped forward. “You should know that he did want to be here. Truthfully—if you’ll permit me to speak freely, High Lord—I think there are a lot of things the Winter High Lord misses about the mortal realm, many of his friends prior to the war were mortal, and he would make the trip to see them often. But the High Lord hasn’t been the same since the war and its reconstructive period. There are a lot of things he wishes to do, but cannot. Will not.” 

“I think what Yuto is trying to say…” Changyoon continued, “...is that Hyojin has withdrawn himself. There’s a lot he has to work through on his own, and I think by coming here, it jeopardizes a lot of which he hasn’t been able to come to terms with yet.” 

Seungjun sighed. “Everyday I wonder to myself if I was truly ready to come back here, if I was mentally and physically prepared to tackle the challenges that accompany my title. I can’t help but think that I myself have jeopardized the person I potentially could have been by returning too soon.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to pass through the border if you weren’t ready…” Changyoon suggested, his head turning slowly in disagreement.

The sun was just beginning to disappear along the tree line, the sky quickly fading from its usual drab shade of gray to a soft gold. It was the greater sense of hope, of reassurance, Seungjun waited for every single day. Through the rain, through thick sheets of snow, howling winds, and bursting sunshine. 

Despite his heart’s denial of something so simple and pure, he continued to wait for it. Whether it was that elusive comfort, or just some sign from the universe that he’d made the right decision, he awaited the judgement that fate likely had tucked away for him. 

“I guess that’s where you’re wrong, Changyoon.” Seungjun pushed his hands into his pockets, his fists tightening as they found the base of the fabric. “Being mortal only comes with one singular perk. If the Fae are incapable of distinguishing between it and reality, I figured that same logic would apply to the magic that protects our two worlds.” 

The light of day faded further and further into the harsh cold of Winter, a bone aching chill settling deep at his core. Yuto and Changyoon merely stared at the prince, the intent of his words slipping past them like a thief in the night. 

“I don’t think I was ready,” Seungjun admitted, his teeth chattering lightly. “I don’t think I was ready for many things on that day. To come home. To leave people I’d truly grown to care for, whether I was conscious of it or not. But, most of all, I don’t think I was ready to face the person I’d become during my time in the Faerie court. Who Minkyun had become as a result of my family’s influence. So...I lied.” 

_ “Your Highness…” _ Yuto whispered, the realization seeping into his fine features. 

The prince could only nod. “I lied to myself, lied to each of you that were there with me that day. And although it was a lie, it was convincing enough for me to get back here. It was convincing enough to spare our peoples the hardship of another war. I guess I’ll never know if my heart believed its own lie, or if the magic itself was as fragile as I would like to think.” 

“We knew asking you to leave was a sacrifice,” Changyoon confessed. “We knew what we were asking of you, what we would be asking of ourselves...but I never once thought this would be the echo of our selfishness.” 

“To be selfish means that you have something to lose…” The mortal prince shuttered from the cold, from the emotions that threatened to burst through the dam of his broken heart. “To be selfless is to be lost.” 


	28. midnight breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for 1k hits!!! I really can’t believe this happened. 
> 
> thank you for everyone who has been read, and to wjc for always supporting me <3

Hyojin was lost. His mind wandered far away from him at times that were both important and not. 

Inyeop snapped his fingers directly in front of his face, the sharp sound dragging him back into himself. “Hyojin, focus.” 

The Winter High Lord raised his dagger towards the High Lord of the Night Court, prompting each of them into position once more. 

“Tell me why  _ I’m  _ the one who has to spar with you?” Inyeop whined. “Where is Changyoon?” 

Even though Hyojin knew the answer, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud, couldn’t bring himself to admit that he’d gotten himself tangled in mortal affairs yet again. He settled for saying nothing as they circled one another, their roaming eyes honing in on each and every breath they took. 

And it was only when the snapping of a twig under someone’s foot echoed around them that Hyojin took his chance to lunge forward. With one hand, he aimed to swipe upward, only enough to graze the neck, and with the other he’d pin the High Lord at the waist. 

A smug smirk grew across Inyeop’s lips, and it was the last thing Hyojin saw before the elder winnowed out of reach. 

Hyojin knew that Inyeop wasn’t the most skilled fighter of the High Lords, but he was the most elusive. The ability to winnow, to disappear and reappear in any given place with the assistance of nature’s gift, was honed  _ in _ the Night Court. For  _ many _ millennia, the citizens of the Faerie courts believed winnowing to be a hoax, an association with the devilry of mortal witchcraft and worship. Yet, when it was discovered that Inyeop could winnow on command, many High Fae called for his immediate removal. Not wanting to be associated with the wild beliefs of mortals, many of Inyeop’s own people were willing to go as far as overthrowing him by force. Through violence. 

Once people of the Night Court realized they naturally could hone the very same ability, the anger and mentally debilitating confusion began to subside. At least within more recent generations of Night Court citizens. Despite their rough and uncivil history, the Night Court was notorious for being the world’s greatest spymasters; assassins; truth seers. Many of which have been hired by the Queen and other High Lords to do their dirty work. Although the work they conducted was tainted in blood, sweat, and tears, their abilities are far beyond even the average High Fae. It’s what made the people of the Night Court unique. Their impenetrable resilience and undying loyalty to their own court. To the  _ Fae. _

“Why don’t we call it a draw?” Inyeop complained, despite the fact that he hadn’t even broken a sweat. “My wrist is starting to hurt.” 

Hyojin’s gaze pulled down to the long katana sword that the High Lord wielded. It has been Inyeop’s weapon of choice for as long as he could remember. It has seen its fair share of battles; its leather wrapped handle worn down to the original wood of the hilt. It spoke volumes of Inyeop’s devotion to his position, his people, and the Faerie courts. And he couldn’t help but wonder if Inyeop knowingly carried it around for that reason, or perhaps something else that was left completely unspoken. 

The Winter High Lord chose to sheath his twin daggers across his shoulder blades, the dark leather sheath crossing at his back. 

“What’s going on?” Inyeop demanded subtly. “It’s not like you to be training like this. I mean, for gods’ sake, we’re in a time of peace.” 

“You can never be too prepared,” Hyojin shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone up against an opponent that I consider a challenge.” 

Inyeop sighed, sheathing his blades. The metal of the blade crying against its worn barrier. “Whatever it is you’re hiding, it will do you no good to keep it from the High Court. Surely you understand that.” 

“Who said I’m hiding anything?”

“You don’t have to,” the High Lord replied too quickly. 

Hyojin’s brows furrowed. “What is it that you’re trying to pull here?” 

Inyeop shook his head, crossing his slender arms across his chest. “I know of the boy, Hyojin. Other than Changyoon, I may be the only other High Lord that knows of his existence, of his stay here in the Winter Court.”

Hyojin wished he could be shocked by the confession, but he wasn’t. Couldn’t. Given all of Inyeop’s resources and natural intuitive skills, it was truthfully only a matter of time before he managed to glean the information for himself. 

“How long?” Hyojin asked. 

“Since the beginning.” 

“And your reason for not saying anything to the others?” 

Inyeop’s gaze wandered as he spoke. “Despite what everyone may think of me, what everyone may think of my court, its people, and its practices, I too don’t see the use in harming someone just for the sake of doing it. It’s about time that the Fae and the mortals put aside their prejudices and come to understand that we are not the monsters that we believe each other to be.” 

The shock Hyojin felt was both grounding and flooring all at once. 

Hwang Inyeop. The world’s most feared High Lord. An unlikely ally. 

Suspicion course through his veins. It wasn’t unusual for the High Lords to doubt one another, especially since each of them had their own strategies to maintain their good graces with the Queen. Hyojin didn’t like to doubt the High Lords, regardless of their truth spilling curse, but he couldn’t help but feel reluctant to accept the Night Court denizen’s sentiments. 

“What do you want?” Hyojin’s voice trembled as he took in the High Lord. “Why bring this up now, after all of this time?” 

Inyeop shook his head. “A whisper of a wind told me that the boy has lost something quite...valuable. If you give me the opportunity to meet him—”

“Absolutely not—”

“—then perhaps my  _ delegation _ and I can help in offering a remedy for his condition.” 

“Don’t hold your breath,” Hyojin spat, venom simmering in his voice.

“Suit yourself,” he retorted, a knowing grin draped across his lips. “Just remember...he is only a mortal. Unlike the Fae, the magic that lingers in his soul has nowhere to go. It’s only a matter of time before it rips through him, tears him apart from the inside out, until there’s nothing left.” 

_ “Hwang Inyeop!” _

But, in the blink of an eye, the High Lord was gone—as if he were merely part of the wind. 


	29. through the darkness.

The months that followed his reunion with Changyoon and Yuto grew drearier and drearier, the days simply blending together like rich pigments in crystalline water. Deep, potent shades of violet swirling and fading into one another until the water cleared a path for swift and refreshing periwinkles and ash grays. 

It was exhausting. Everyday was a new challenge he hadn’t given much thought to prior to his stay in Faerie. And to top it all off, as if there weren’t enough things stirring the awfully full pot of his anxiety, he was... _ encouraged  _ to participate in the planning of his own birthday gala—a rather  _ ritualistic  _ affair hosted by the eight noble families of Pandora. When in fact, it was nothing more than an opportunity for the parents to flaunt the influence of their personal accounts. 

“Seungjun…” Minkyun approached him, struggling against the weight of two  _ very _ full vases. “There you are.” 

“I can’t imagine why you’d be looking for me, Minkyun,” he stated plainly. 

Minkyun huffed a sigh of relief as he set the vases down on a hutch. “And I can’t imagine why you may still be upset with me, but unfortunately we can’t avoid each other amongst these walls.” 

“I can try—”

_ “Anyways,  _ the guests are starting to arrive so I’ve been tasked with making sure you stay in your room until it’s time for you to make your  _ grand  _ entrance.” 

The room seemingly buffered as Seungjun’s eyes rolled in annoyance. “Who cares if they see me? I have known these people since my birth. It’s not like I’m a secret that’s been concealed from the world.” 

“While that may be true,” Minkyun retorted. “I am merely following orders.” 

_ Following orders.  _ Seungjun scoffed inwardly, resisting the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes again. The prince closed nearly all space between them, ear brushing the skin of Minkyun’s cheek, and under his breath he said, “And were you following orders when you threatened the Fae at their own border?” 

“Jun—”

“How dare you bring innocent men there with you…men who have been serving in my guard for  _ decades…”  _ Seungjun pulled back, just enough to meet Minkyun’s eyes. “I trusted you to keep this secret from everyone. Absolutely. Thoroughly. It was never a test of loyalty, or anything of the sort, but one of trust.” 

“Your Highness.” 

“I don’t want to hear it.” Seungjun stepped away, raking a hand through his already dishevelled hair. “No need to escort me back either, I can find my way on my own.” 

He didn’t even so much as look back as he strode through the manor, toward a cage he knew he’d never be free from. Enclosed and put on display for all to see and admire; a pretty face to speak volumes about, but ideals and beliefs that are adorned by fire and scorn. 

To be born into nobility means abandoning any sense of free will, as one’s _ will _ is at the mercy of their parents. It’s an endless cycle of overwhelming toxicity and abuse, sometimes mental, many times physical, and if he hadn’t fainted at the border that night, Seungjun may have been tempted to turn back around.

He was vaguely aware of Minkyun calling out for him as he continued to navigate his way through the long, empty halls. The manor staff, congregating in the common areas of his strange home, all seemed to busy themselves with menial tasks related to the party being hosted in his honor. 

The familiar rustling and clinking of dishes against one another, alongside deep genuine laughter echoed longways throughout the halls. All of it vividly mimicked a scene he would surely never forget; roaming the deep crimson halls of the Winter Court manor, memories of the Court attendants bustling and giggling in the halls as they relaxed under the absence of their High Lord. It was the most subtle reminder that even the Fae weren’t heartless, that they too lived a life outside of the confines of magic and Faerie Court ideals and politics. Simply unconcerned with anything outside of the immediate woes and worries that came with their own lives and families. 

Seeing the daily lives of the Fae, being able to resonate with their trials and tribulations, humanized them in a way Seungjun hadn’t considered until now. Although they were hardly mortal, he was comforted by the idea that he was able to find some relief in their relatability. That he wasn’t merely an outcast amongst a sea of strangers, amongst a vast open sky of blood-deep prejudice and derisive hopes. 

He was mortal. A mortal who’d made it home. If he could even call it that. Somehow he felt like more of an outcast than ever before, felt completely and utterly unseen by those who he should have been able to resonate with the most. The gears grinding against each other were painful, screeched and hissed until he was sure they were going to collapse all together. 

When he stepped into his room, and closed the doors quietly behind him, he was still surprised by how dark everything still seemed to appear. The dark mahogany wood of the furniture was suffocating; it was yet another thing he hadn’t given much thought to his entire life. Merely thinking nothing of it, just furniture and simple furnishings that had been designed by some of the best craftsmen in all of Pandora, commissioned by his parents even prior to his birth. 

_ A room built for a future king. _ His father had once said. 

Now it felt like a lie, one that lingered deep and true in everything around him. He stared into the shallow space of his room and saw an endless abyss temping him to jump. Calling out to him to give up on a dream that had grown cold, a sweet smell that had morphed into someone sharp and acrid, piercing straight through him until he felt the sting in his chest. 

A simple knock at the door startled him back into his body, and when he turned, one of the handmaidens he was particularly close with poked her head through the door. 

“Your Highness,” she greeted cheerfully. “I’m here to help you get ready!” 

And as much as he wanted to smile genuinely, wanted to reassure her fleeting excitement, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Where there should have been a beacon of warmth, there was a dense fog accompanied by a chill that settled deep in his bones. 

He didn’t know what it meant, if it was supposed to mean anything in the first place, but he was on edge. Anxious about what the night may have to offer. 

—

The drawing room was packed with people. Frankly, every inch of the manor seemed to be littered with people he knew and didn’t. 

Each of the noble families were in attendance—as expected. These birthday galas were nothing but another opportunity for the eight noble families to flaunt their political influence, the connections they did and didn’t have. The children didn’t matter, the celebration itself held no weight compared to the overwhelmingly obnoxious smugness that seemed to ravage the atmosphere. 

Seungjun had foregone forging a new wardrobe for tonight’s spectacle. Instead, settling for the deep forest green suit he’d commissioned for himself years ago. Although it was unconventional, and all eyes were constantly on him as he maneuvered throughout the room, greeting guests here and there, it was still his favorite suit out of the hundreds that had ever been made for him. 

“Your Highness!” Seungjun’s eyes crossed the room until they were on Minkyun, who waved excitedly at the prince. 

Deep inside Seungjun wished he could understand what that penetrating and wholly genuine excitement felt like, but when his eyes met the younger’s he felt nothing. Minkyun was nothing more than a reminder of his deeply etched sins, the mistakes he’d never be able to remedy. A life, and generation of a family, he’d ruined with a single breath. 

Once Minkyun was able to cross the room to where he stood, Seungjun was better able to see the smile that reached his eyes, the dimples that creased at the corners of his wide smile. And Seungjun was sure that if his already wounded heart could shatter anymore than it already was, it would. It was at that moment the prince realized that a person’s ability to be hurt, to be damaged and scarred, could reach a point of no return. A point where the ache and pain of hurting oneself, hurting another person, morphed into an ear splitting silence. A numbness so stiff and cold that it felt like a heavy weight on his conscience. 

“Is there anything I can get for you, Your Highness?” Minkyun asked politely, folding his hands behind his back. 

The prince merely shook his head, brushing off the offer as quickly as he walked away. The heavy sigh that came from behind rang in his ears as he squeezed between strangers. 

He knew better than anyone that Minkyun was trying his best, going out of his way to mend what had been broken. But there was no use in glueing something back together that was missing parts. 

Seungjun pushed open the doors to the terrace, and shut them promptly behind him. He was in desperate need of fresh air and any sort of silence and solace he could get. His head was ringing, overstimulated by the exhaustingly large crowd, the mixture of hundreds of perfumes making his head foggy. A subtle ache began to form at the root of his temples, and as much as he tried to soothe the ache away, it only continued to grow as the crowd indoors dove deeper into the devil’s temptations. 

Looking out over the edge of the balcony, the world opened up into one of dull darkness. One of evening comfort; a hard day’s work done; lust; understanding; heartbreak. He saw it all in a world he was nearly tempted to forget, one he’d often pondered abandoning. Yet, it was a view quite like this that offered a peace he’d been begging for his entire life. Something that would offset the war that waged in his fragile heart, even if it was only for a moment. 

Vaguely aware of someone stepping through the french doors, Seungjun stiffened. He could feel a mild annoyance creeping up his spine as he realized he was going to have to find a new place to hide out for the remainder of the evening. That was until he was dragged inside once more for a celebratory toast. 

The prince turned, a strangled sigh catching in his throat when he realized he was nose to nose with Hyojin. 

He knew those eyes.

Even in the dark. 

_ “Your Highness…” _ the title slid off the High Lord’s tongue like a strong drink, his voice low and husky underneath the airiness. 

Confusion ravaged him whole as Seungjun searched those eyes, scanned them for any sign of trickery, his throat tightening up with shock. 

Hyojin lightly wrapped his fingers around the prince’s elbow, pulling him impossibly close. Too close. 

_ “Breathe,”  _ Hyojin whispered. Strands of the hair that fell into their faces tangled and wrapped together as the wind passed between them. 

“What are you—” Seungjun stuttered.  _ “How are you even…?” _

Something short of a grin played at the High Lord’s lips before the gap between them was closed, Hyojin’s soft lips pushing between his. 

And there was nothing to stop Seungjun’s eyes from fluttering closed. He willed his body to stop, commanded his heart and mind to withdraw, as if he’d stumbled into an enemy camp. But his soul cried out, taking over him until he was no longer himself. 

A shiver wrapped itself around him, traveling swiftly up his spine as Hyojin pulled away. 

“Happy Birthday, Your Highness.” 


	30. confessions.

Seungjun stumbled forward, catching Hyojin’s falling hand before it could swing it to his side. 

The High Lord’s gaze snagged on the mortal prince, his eyes pouring into his like the brightest beacon of life, of light. If he was being honest with himself, it was hard to look at him. Seeing him here, in Pandora, in his own home, unsettled and completely unacclimated to his own royal status, was a difficult truth for Hyojin to swallow. While everything about it seemed right—appeared to fit the young prince like the missing piece to a seemingly endless puzzle—seeing him  _ crumble _ under the weight of their reunion felt…wrong. 

Seungjun’s searching eyes made him feel like he’d made a grave mistake. An image of the day Seungjun willed himself through that stubborn border flickered in his mind; to when he himself had crossed the threshold into the Pandorian Royal manor. Each of those moments, each of those life altering decisions, brought them to here and now. 

With what he’d learned, it bought Hyojin an opportunity to remedy what had been damaged under his care.

“What is this?” Seungjun’s words tumbled from his lips quickly, but softly. Disbelief set deeply in the fine lines of his face, his fingers tightening around Hyojin’s hand. 

Hyojin tried to smile, desperately hoping that it was believable, as he lifted his eyes to meet the younger’s. “Well I couldn’t just come to your home, uninvited, unannounced, empty handed.” 

The prince’s expression didn’t falter, but rather a silver lining of tears collected at the base of his lashes. 

“How could you do this?” Seungjun whispered between them. Hyojin was more or so aware of the way the latter pulled him incredibly close. Too close. “How could you just come here after I’d finally decided that it was okay to forget you?” 

The High Lord’s breath hitched in his throat, the excuses and lies he desperately desired to wield were lodged between the skin of his teeth and his sand muddled heart. 

After some hesitation, Hyojin rested his forehead against Seungjun’s, his blood humming with their sudden closeness. Softly, he managed to say, “Is it enough for me to say that I missed you?” 

Seungjun shuttered, and the tears fell quickly, hot against his cold skin. The ache that had settled deep in his chest was painful. There was a simple yearning and a much more complex sense of disappointment that would never be able to mix well. The heartwrenching, yet confusing sense of disappointment weighed heavily on him like oil against water. 

He’d spent nearly a year and a half stuck in the past, in something quite like a dream, one that he’d questioned several times over whether it was even real. And at times he needed those reminders the most, something or  _ someone  _ would be there to show him the undeniable truth. 

“No…” Seungjun sighed, leaning into Hyojin’s touch. “No it’s not.”

Hyojin’s hand settled at the nape of the prince’s neck, which sent a shiver down Seungjun’s spine. 

_ “I’m sorry—” _

Seungjun didn’t want to hear an apology, he didn’t want to hear a single word. He leaned forward, pulling Hyojin by his lapel as their lips met for the second that evening. He was vaguely aware of Hyojin trying to mumble something between breaths, between bitten lips, but he couldn’t make it out as the ringing in his ears removed him from everything he was trying to escape. 

There was nothing slow or affectionate between them. There was no mistaking the sheer desperation that took control of their wandering hands, nor the suddenly loud silence that had lingered between them for quite some time. A unyielding curiosity to know, to understand, to wonder. A desperate need for an anchor that would forever ground themselves. 

Seungjun slipped his fingers into Hyojin’s deep chestnut hair, tugging him even closer, which conjured a rumble at the back of the High Lord’s throat. 

Hyojin tried to pull away. “Seungjun. Wait—”

“Not now,” Seungjun growled as he captured those lips between his teeth. 

And as much as the High Lord tried to resist, something in him churned. Something dark, something eager. 

Hyojin wrapped one arm around the prince’s waist, and pinned him to the ledge with the other. Despite his heartlessness, Hyojin wanted to cry. After spending centuries alone, the rare bond—one that he’d been denying from the very beginning—between him and this innocent mortal locked in place; its presence getting heavier and heavier with each touch, each forbidden kiss. It was a link much stronger than magic itself, something far more natural than nature itself. 

And that terrified him. 

_ “Wait…”  _ Hyojin pleaded. “Wait. Wait.” 

They were both out of breath, their chests heaving against each other as they both tried to grasp their reality. 

Seungjun’s eyes lingered on Hyojin for a long moment, patiently waiting just like he’d said. “What’s bothering you?” 

Hyojin shook his head. “There’s something you should know. You may not understand it, but you deserve to know all the same.” 

A question twinkled in the mortal prince’s eyes as the familiar sounds of partygoers raged from the other side of the doors behind them. But for whatever reason, Hyojin’s knees wobbled, a year’s worth of hesitation and more suddenly overtaking his nerves, and there was nothing to catch him as he faltered, stumbling into a kneel before the young prince. 

_ “Hyo—” _

“No. Stop,” Hyojin demanded. “You kneel for no one. Especially me. I still blame myself for your submission to our Fae hierarchy.” 

“Please, no…” Seungjun tried to crouch down, but Hyojin merely pushed his knees back into place, pinning them against the wall. 

The High Lord sighed, resting his forehead against the prince’s thigh. “I don’t think I can look at you when I say this. So,  _ please,  _ just be still.” 

Hesitantly, Seungjun smoothed Hyojin’s hair, hoping it would offer any sort of consolation,  _ anything  _ that may soothe his debilitating nerves. “Take your time.”

“You…” Hyojin shook his head. “No,  _ I  _ have been having these dreams, or at least I used to. For as long as I can remember, I’ve spent every waking night dreaming the same tormenting dream. There’s never been anything to see, nothing but pure darkness accompanied by a voice that would cry out my name into that very same twilight. For centuries, I had never been able to understand why I was hearing this voice, why it called out for me, why it seemed so...urgent. Desperate.” He took a deep breath, grateful for Seungjun’s anchoring touch. “Until one day the darkness dissipated, and with it came a whole new sort of dream. No longer nightmares, but occasional utopias I’d always yearned to be a reality for the Winter Court…”

Turning his head to the side, away from Seungjun’s heavy gaze, Hyojin closed his eyes and said, “And you were there.” 

Seungjun’s muscles stiffened under his fingers. There was a knowing there, an understanding that was gone and soul deep, one that prompted Hyojin’s curiosity, but not enough to distract him from what he’d come here to say. 

“It wasn’t until then that I realized you were that very same voice calling out to me for all of those years,” Hyojin admitted. “I couldn’t fathom as to how or why it was possible. For a young mortal who hadn’t even been born yet; a young prince, whose ancestor was my best friend, that wasn’t even a twinkle in the eyes of your lineages’ family line. I’d told Changyoon about it after some time had passed, and to my dismay, he could only offer an explanation I had spent several lifetimes denying” 

Hyojin’s grip around the prince’s calf tightened as his nerves wound up in his chest. Pooling in and out of him like waves violently crashing against the haunting image of blood soaked sand. Suddenly, it seemed difficult to even breathe, and he hadn’t even realized that Seungjun had crouched down in front of him when he finally forced himself to open his eyes.

The Pandorian prince took the High Lord’s face in between his hands, rubbing a slow soothing circle against his cheek. His voice was as soft as a warm spring breeze after the rain had passed. “You’re okay, Hyojin. Whatever it is you have to say, if you’re not ready to say it, then please don’t force yourself. While I may not have as much time in this life as you do, I would wait until I could no longer physically bear the weight of my crown as long as it meant you were ready.”

A tear trickled down his face, hot and heavy against his sensitive skin, and Seungjun was quick to wipe it away. “It’s okay to be unsure. It’s okay to be scared,” he assured. “Don’t let the pressure of keeping that hidden from the world bring you to your knees. For it is  _ you  _ that kneels for no one, Hyo. For nothing. For  _ no one.”  _

Seungjun pressed his lips against the High Lord’s temple, lingering for what felt like a moment too long, before he wrapped his arms around him. 

And in that warmth and comfort, Hyojin shuttered. His voice strained with equal parts sadness and content as he confessed, “I think you’re my mate.” 


	31. to be, or not.

_ “What does it mean?” Donghun asked, the large fire crackling beside them. In the middle of damn near nowhere, darkness engulfed them on all sides. Their only source of light fueled by the scorching camp fires. _

_ Hyojin stirred out of his calm daze, flipping onto his other side to face the king. “What does what mean exactly?”  _

_ “To have a mate, to  _ be  _ someone’s mate?” He asked without any hesitation. “Is it like being someone’s husband? To be someone’s wife?”  _

_ “Where is this coming from?”  _

_ The king shrugged against the damp patchy grass. “I overheard Changyoon talking about it with some other Autumn Court denizens. I don’t know...it just stuck with me. As you know, your culture isn’t something we know much about. It’s hard when both of our people are resistant to each other, and as the king of Pandora, I feel a great sense of responsibility to understand both of our people in order to be a benevolent king.”  _

_ Hyojin sighed, a rather bitter sense of understanding churning his stomach. “You are a fine king, my friend. Don’t doubt yourself for a moment, especially if it’s over something as trivial as the complicated courting ethics of the Faerie Court.”  _

_ “I supposed,” he agreed, a subtle wave of defeat hovering between them. “And yet, here I am, presented with the opportunity of a lifetime—to get answers to everything I’ve ever been curious about from the people I consider to be my best friends, and yet I’m just as blind to it all as my people.”  _

_ “Not necessarily,” Hyojin countered. “Unlike your people, and do not take offense to this, you seek out what you do not know. You are not afraid to tackle that which may be complicated, or supernatural; you do not fear us. You are intrigued by our ways of life, and you are not dissuaded by the public opinion, by their overwhelming prejudice. Not to say that my own people are not faulted for the very same behavior, but it’s what makes people like you and I beacons of hope for a more progressive future. For all of us. For those who will come after all of this.”  _

_ “There is nothing to fear,” Donghun stated rather confidently. “What is there to fear in someone who mostly appears just as I do? You and I both know there are always going to be people who do wrong against others. There will always be violence and deception, whether it be at the hand of a mortal or a Fae. We all have weapons to wield. It just so happens that yours is part of who you are, makes up what people believe is treacherous about your kind. But I see your magic for what it is; simply an extension of life buried deep in a people who have been tasked with the responsibility to carry out what nature cannot.”  _

_ “You may be the only person in the world that does,” Hyojin admitted.  _

_ The night sky expanded before them like an endless abyss. Seemingly continuous blackness shrouded by the cover of windy branches of the towering birch trees. It was both comforting and not to know that at the very least they were together to face whatever uncertainty may be looming over their near future. Yet, it was because they were together that put him on edge the most.  _

_ “To be another person's mate…” Hyojin started, steady but unsure. “It’s a connection and commitment much deeper than life itself. It is unlike marriage in a variety of ways; to be married and to be mated are to very different things, but can be a combination of ideals if they are important to the individuals. It is nature’s way of binding two, or more, individuals together, and it is taught to us that that very person is meant to be our perfect match in ways we couldn’t begin to fathom. Ultimately, it boils down to our natural instincts, the basic function of all people to reproduce and keep ourselves from dying out. There are  _ many  _ Fae who have been mated but they don’t accept each other, and there are many who do. Everyone isn’t for everyone after all.”  _

_ “So how do you know?” Donghun wondered. “How are you able to distinguish your connection from one person to another?”  _

_ Hyojin hummed in contemplation. “I personally haven’t been mated with anyone, but from what I’ve been told, I suppose it feels a lot like falling in love. There’s just a feeling, an uncomfortable twist in your stomach until something just finally latches in place...and you just know.” _

_ “And you can be mated to anyone?”  _

_ The High Lord shook his head. “The Fae are incapable of being mated with humans. It is simply a connection between the Fae.” _

_ Donghun still appeared confused, as if he were trying to wrap his mind around something he would never be able to understand. So Hyojin added a light hearted, “Think of it in the same way that mortals believe in soulmates.” _

_ “Some mortals believe that they can be tied to a Fae soul,” Donghun countered.  _

_ At that Hyojin frowned. He tried to stifle a laugh as he said, “This is the first time that I have ever heard of such a notion.”  _

_ “You mustn’t think it too ridiculous if that’s your only reaction.”  _

_ “I am most likely the only remaining High Lord of my time that believes in the unification between our world and yours. We all share the space of this planet together, why should we have to remain divided simply because of some biological and spiritual differences?”  _

_ Donghun pushed himself off of the ground, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees. “It has never been that simple.”  _

_ “No…” Hyojin mumbled. “No, it hasn’t.”  _

—

Seungjun stared at him with those bright mocha colored eyes, one part confusion, one part awe etched into his soft features. 

_ It should be impossible, Changyoon.  _ He once told the Autumn High Lord. 

And it should have been. It went against everything he’d ever been taught about the relationship that was at the very core of who they are. Who they’re supposed to be together, and who they are as individuals. 

Hyojin gazed at the Pandorian prince, a deep straining ache settling deep in his empty chest. 

“So what does this mean?” Seungjun asked tentatively. “For us? For you?” 

The High Lord shook his head. “It means nothing if you feel nothing.”

“And if that’s not the case?” 

A brief comfortable silence embraced them, tied them together in a tender awareness. 

“Then I can only pray to the moon and stars that  _ that  _ is enough.”


	32. acknowledged.

Minkyun didn’t like to drink. He never has. 

People had always told him that he would learn to love it, that was an acquired taste—one that would come with drinking the same sort of liquors over and over again until somehow he would find himself ignoring just how much he detested it. 

Night after night, he waits for something, for someone, to prove him wrong. Tonight was no exception. Yet, even after all of this time, the truth still held true. He still hated the taste of whiskey, didn’t find any satisfaction in the burn that swept down his throat, settled uncomfortably in his nasal cavity. 

“Here again?” 

Minkyun lifted his eyes to that overly familiar place behind the bar where the tavern owner stood leaning against the door jamb. He could come here everyday—he  _ did _ come here everyday—and the owner would still carry that smug arrogance on his face, an overwhelming sense of pride tucked behind it. 

“You may as well rent a room from me permanently with the number of nights you end up staying here…” 

“And pay your lousy prices everyday for gods know how long?” Minkyun scoffed, throwing the remainder of his drink back in one swift motion. His face crumpled against the bitterness. “No thank you.” 

He slammed his crystalline glass against the smooth but worn wooden bar, and the bartender sauntered over with another amber liquid that didn’t look nearly as daunting as his last glass, much lighter in color in fact. However, he’d learned quickly that the lighter the color, the greater the effects. The bartender filled his glass promptly without being asked, he knew better than anyone that Minkyun would be leaving far after closing anyways. 

“You’re my most valued customer,” the owner prompted enthusiastically, walking up to the bar. “Surely we could work something out, especially with those royal connections you’ve been keeping tucked away.” 

Minkyun huffed a dry laugh. “Connections?  _ What  _ connections? Working for the Lee’s has only ever brought me heartache and expectations lined with disappointment.” 

“Who cares about feelings when you make money like that?” He countered. “I bet you make more than what this place is capable of racking up in a single weekend.”

“I never cared about the money,” he slurred. His free hand supported his suddenly very heavy head, despite the fact that he felt as light as a feather coasting along the ocean breeze. “It was never about that. It was about being there for my friend—”

The owner hummed with some passive understanding, but interjected quickly as he said, “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. You cannot befriend individuals of the royal families. Once you enter through those gates, there’s no turning back. It becomes a game—who knows the most, who  _ truly _ sits at the highest seat of Pandora. There is no making friends amongst royals, my boy. They’ll chew you up and spit you out before you even have the chance to prove your worth, and even then...they prove that you’re nothing to them by replacing you with someone who is even better.” 

“You don’t know him—”

_ “I don’t need to know them,  _ the whole country knows of them,” he said as folded his arms across his chest. “The whole country knows of their history, knows of their failed family line. Their own son, their  _ only _ child, isn’t even married yet. How is he expected to sire an heir at his age, especially with that ridiculous family curse hanging over his head?” 

“Who are you to shame them?” 

The tavern owner chuckled meniachly, and he took a deep breath before saying, “I am their subject. As are you...and it’s time you learn that to them people like you and I are disposable.” 

If he hadn’t known any better, he would have assumed the owner to be prying, trying to fish whatever information out of him that he could. But he knew he didn’t need to say a single word, it was clear the tavern owner knew something. Whatever that may be, or however he may have come to know, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Especially under the influence. 

Additionally, Minkyun didn’t need a mere stranger to poke at the dull, aching, but very much open wound of his heart. 

_ To them, you and I are disposable.  _

The words settled uncomfortably in his heart. He thought back to all of the times Seungjun turned his back on him in the halls, blatantly and outright told him off in order to hurt him, all in hopes that the message would finally push through his thick skull and be received. He knew deep in his heart that’s what the prince was desperate for, knew he was looking for anything and everything that wouldn’t remind him of the ordeal he faced in having to come back home. But, as his longtime friend, Minkyun knew that Seungjun was specifically looking for a distraction, amongst trying to reabsorb himself in a life he’d never felt connected to. 

It was clear that Seungjun had finally found something to live for, had discovered something that brought him the excitement he’d always been craving. Minkyun had internalized that truth long ago, and somehow he couldn’t seem to let it go, couldn’t find it in himself to move past everything he’d ever known and felt. It was unfair—to have to suffer in silence like this all on his own; to have to be the one to make endless sacrifices for a friendship he once believed to be impenetrable, but now shaken and broken by the seductive whispers of the Fae. 

He’ll forever be grateful for Seungjun, for the royal prince that saved his life all of those years ago, but the cost of Seungjun’s sacrifice was hollow. Drowning his sorrows and frustrations in poisonous liquors, all in an exhaustive hope that he would finally grasp that everything they’ve been through was worth it, was far from where he believed they would be. 

“Perhaps you’re right…” Minkyun admitted. “But I’d like to think that he is better than the rumors that tarnish his good name.” 

“Amazing…” a familiar voice stretched from behind. “After everything, you still believe that he’s everything he used to be and more.” 

Minkyun slowly turned in his seat, just in time to see Changyoon taking a seat in the barstool just next to him. 

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked, completely uninterested in the details of their companionship. 

Changyoon shrugged, nudging his head towards him, placing a rusted coin down onto the counter. “Just get me whatever he’s having.” 

The bartender merely nodded before walking off to the opposite end of the bar. 

“What are you doing here?” Minkyun asked, forcing the amber liquid down his throat just moments after. 

“I suppose I’m here to do the same thing that you’re doing…” 

“And that would be?” 

“Drinking.” 

Minkyun scoffed. _ “Right…”  _

Changyoon leaned forward on the counter, trying to get a better look at Minkyun’s face. “Are you saying that you’re here for some reason outside of that?” 

The bartender came back, placing the drink just a hands length away, but Changyoon didn’t move to reach for it. Rather, he waited patiently for the former faux prince to acknowledge his presence. That somebody had come—for him. 

“What I’m doing here doesn’t concern you,” he spat back, then gestured to where Changyoon’s drink sat. “You better drink that. It’s expensive stuff.” 

“Oh I intend to.” 

“But?” 

Changyoon gazed at the young man, still waiting for him to look at him,  _ really  _ look at him. And when he finally did, he looked neither surprised nor impressed. His face was both pale and flushed; tinges of pink and red scattered at the base of his neck and the high points of his cheeks. He almost couldn’t tell if his seriously bad temper was the work of the alcohol he’d consumed, or if it was a mix of a harsh reality and being under the influence. 

_ “But…”  _ he emphasized. “I’m not going to waste such a precious resource if you’re just going to sit here and waste my time.” 

“That’s the beauty of taking chances, isn’t it?” Minkyun retorted, venom dripping from the words. “Chance is all about how much time you’re willing to barter. Not that time is important to the Fae anyways—”

“Who says it’s not?” Changyoon interrupted, his eyebrows furrowing with feigned offense.

“Everyone knows that time moves at least a quarter of the pace that it would here in the mortal realm.” 

“And?” Changyoon took a sip of his drink, his expression unphased as the gold liquid went down. “Once you live for a couple hundred of years, it gets old.” 

Minkyun rolled his eyes. “Most mortals would kill to have as much time as you do.”

“And many Fae would kill to have less of it…” Changyoon sighed and moved his seat closer. “Time, and how much you have of it, is a double edged sword, princeling. You’re damned if you have enough of it, and you’re damned if you don’t.” 

In one gulp, Minkyun finished the rest of his drink, and pushed his glass away, likely indicating that he’d had enough. Changyoon figured as such since the bartender didn’t make a move to refill his glass again. A new sort of silence settled between them, it was neither awkward nor congenial. Instead, they simply sat, basking in the silence of not-so mutual understanding and company. 

Minkyun turned in his seat, clumsily crossing his legs as he did so. “Tell me what you’re really doing here. Why are you in the mortal realm? The prince is home now, so why should you have any business here?”

“Just because a border lies between us doesn’t mean the rest of the world is off limits to either of us.” 

“If the mortals aren’t allowed to cross the border into Faerie, why should the Fae be allowed to come onto our land?”

Changyoon raised a brow in amusement. “Nothing is stopping any of you from coming into Fae territory aside from your fear. Anyone could technically pass through the border as long as their heart is open to accepting what may linger on the other side. But if there’s even an inkling of fear burying deep in your heart, deep in the back of your mind, you cannot cross. The same logic applies to the lesser Fae who want to cross over into the mortal realm.” 

“You’re evading the question.” 

“I’m not sure if you’d like to hear the reason why I’m here,” Changyoon admitted. “Also, I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“And I don’t see how you intervening in my life is any of  _ your  _ business…”

Changyoon brought his glass to his lips and emptied it as quickly as he began. He gasped, almost as if he were refreshed, and threw an arm around the younger’s shoulder. “Come with me.” 

“Piss off.” 

“If you come with me now, I promise you’ll never see me again…” Changyoon bartered. 

Minkyun chuckled. It sounded fake, but any reaction was a good reaction at this rate. “And why should I go anywhere with you?” 

Changyoon stood from his seat. The light touch of his fingers under Minkyun’s chin angled the younger’s gaze towards him. “I mustered up all the courage I had left to come in here and face you. Please don’t let that be in vain.” 

—

If it hadn’t been for the well lit shopping district at their backs, they would have sat in pure darkness. The echo of the waves crashing against the sand just down the slope. 

“If you’d had as much time as me,” Changyoon started. “I think you’d be surprised to know what this place used to look like before. What used to be here, what seems like it has always been here but hasn’t, what still remains of a people from a time that no longer can leave their mark on this earth.” 

The harsh winds of the evening were cold and unforgiving, but neither of them made a move to retreat for the warmth of the tavern. 

“That’s the thing about time, Minkyun. Something I don’t think you, or Seungjun, will ever understand…” he shuttered a breath, pushing his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Mortals discredit the Fae simply because we have been granted too much time, because you weren’t granted enough, per se. If I have learned anything in this life, it’s that time doesn’t care about us. You. Me. It doesn’t care about your feelings, who your friends are, what you do for a living or don’t. It refuses to discriminate, refuses to bend to anyone’s will. And for people like the Fae, who simply persist and keep on living until the day Nature claims us for herself—unbeknownst to when that time may come—we are forced to watch. We stand by as the people we know and care for merely slip away; forced to idly watch as their faces grow into that of their children, and their children after that. And after so many generations, there’s nothing we can do to maintain that connection with those people. Until one day, eventually, the pain just grows cold, grows numb in the heart. And then you’re just alone, left with nothing but the memories and tombstones.” 

Minkyun turned his gaze to the Fae, stripped of whatever glamour he’d been wearing in the tavern. Simply washed down to that onyx hair and those delicately pointed ears.

He wondered if that’s how it would feel to forget Seungjun. Or his family. Would it simply be remembering what it felt like being with them? Or would it linger for a while and then fade into nothing, absolving the hurt along with it? 

“Some of us let it fade, let it go with time. While others of us hold onto it, borderline obsess over it until they finally believe they’ve atoned for things they assume to be their fault…”

“Is it safe to say you speak from experience?” Minkyun offered. “Or perhaps, someone else’s?”

Changyoon merely rolled his shoulders, scratching some distant spot at the back of his neck with some anxiety. “Each living Fae has experienced heartache. We’ve all lost someone we care about, just like mortals. The cycle of life and death does not evade us, but rather makes it more painful. For Hyojin and I…we have never had the talent of acquainting ourselves with other Fae. For various reasons really, but mostly because our values never overlapped with those that raised us. Truthfully, Hyojin was always the better of us. He’d always been so sure of who he was, what he believed, what he wanted for the world—yours and ours. And it wasn’t until he and I became acquainted that my worldview began to open up. After meeting him, understanding who he was and what he’d been through, I realized that being prejudiced isn’t something you’re born with, it’s taught to you. And in Faerie...they hammer it in until the mallet breaks.”

Unsure of when he’d even bit the hook, Minkyun could feel himself getting reeled in, a subtle panic beginning to overtake his swirling emotions. 

“Hyojin and I found our escape here. In the mortal realm,” Changyoon confessed. “And many of our friends lived here in these very homes. But there was one young man in particular that always gave us a reason to keep coming back, simply because he demanded it, and we were so smitten by his friendship that we did. Any time he’d ask us to come, we’d be there. There wasn’t anything we wouldn’t have done for him...which is why we fought to defend this land, his home,  _ your  _ home, against our very own.” A moment of silence lingered between them, only long enough for Changyoon to clear his throat; his voice soft as he said, “We fought,  _ and fought,  _ using up every last bit of magic and all of the physical energy that we could expend. And it still wasn’t enough.”

Minkyun tilted his head, confusion gathering at the forefront of his thoughts. “But...the fae-mortal alliance won the war…”

“We may have won the war, but we lost the very person we swore to protect.” Changyoon said, the words tight in his throat. “It’s been so long since then, and it’s clear that the mortal realm still hasn’t forgiven us for the death of its king.”

“War is unpredictable,” Minkyun stated plainly. “We can’t protect everyone. Accidents happen, and we can’t be held accountable for things that are out of our control.” 

Changyoon gazed out into the black ocean, his thoughts swarming through him like the harsh winds. A deep sense of conflict weighed him down as he said, “History doesn’t know the whole story...the people, both Fae and mortal, don’t realize that it wasn’t an accident at all.” 

“I beg your pardon—”

“In the ways that it matters, the events of that day were accidental,” Changyoon clarified. “What happened was out of Hyojin’s control, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything even if he wanted to.” 

Minkyun adjusted himself in the sand, turning himself to face Changyoon with full transparency. His limbs trembled in fear, he couldn’t stop his fingers from shaking as he clasped onto the Fae’s thin shoulder. Conflict raged in his veins, thundered in his heart, his voice low and hesitant as he said, “You better not be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“And what would that be, princeling?” Changyoon dug, forcing that piercing feline gaze straight through his crippled confidence.” 

He choked on the words, the accusation that sat like a stone in his throat. 

“Say it…” his companion prompted, a deep sense of patience and understanding lingering in the words.

“Ah—are you—” Minkyun stuttered. “Are you saying that the mortal account of the king’s death is wrong? That he didn’t simply die in battle, but at the hands of a Fae High Lord, at the will of his magic?” 

Changyoon unveiled a breath he’d seemed to be holding. “In some ways, yes. In others, no.”

_ “Changyoon.”  _

“Donghun died amidst the fighting,” the High Lord stated simply. It was the first time Minkyun had ever heard a single soul refer to their lost but ageless king by his given name, and something about the way he said his name felt intimate. “Yet, the mortal accounts recount that he died trying to protect those that were defenseless. That account in and of itself is false. So much so that it’s almost laughable. If I hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t seen it for myself, perhaps I would have believed that rendition of the events. But I  _ was  _ there, I  _ did _ see it, and to this day I regret not moving my feet even a second faster. If I had, perhaps I could have stopped it from happening. All of it.” 

“All of…?” 

The Fae sighed, and even in the dark there was no mistaking the tear that fell down his face. “Hyojin...his magic...it just swallowed him whole. Turned him into something far beyond anything he stood for, morphed him into a ticking time bomb fueled by anger and fear. The magic swelled and swelled, crossing over the barrier that connects his soul to his physical body, until it had nowhere else to go but out. At least that’s what I thought at the time. Long after the war, after at least a generation had passed since Donghun had died, I learned that the magic doesn’t simply move out, it expands until it consumes its host, wrapping them in its clutches until it wears thin. And I thought Hyojin carving his own heart out would ultimately hold all of the answers to keeping that beast at bay, but he and I have been proven wrong time and time again.” 

“Wait…” Minkyun’s brows furrowed with a confusion so genuine that he could feel a subtle ache beginning to form in his temples. “I—hold on. Hyojin...he—”

“You heard me correctly,” Changyoon interrupted, already aware of the question that hung in the air. “Hyojin doesn’t have a heart.”

“H–how— _ how  _ is that even possible?” 

“It shouldn’t be,” the High Lord admitted. “Truthfully, it shouldn’t be possible. But...Hyojin is the most powerful High Lord that our history has seen in  _ ages.  _ Whether or not the people of Faerie care to admit it or not, it appears to be true.  _ Somehow _ Hyojin enchanted his heart, bound it to him with complex spells and incantations to keep himself alive, to ensure that it would remain connected to him until the end of his life. Ridden with guilt and the world's densest sorrows, he carved his heart out and buried it in the very sand where Donghun died.” 

“I—” Minkyun stuttered. “I don’t know if I believe you.” 

Changyoon shrugged. “Not many people do, and I’m not asking you to believe me, but the moment you put your hand to where his heart should be...it’s all you need to know in order to recognize that it’s the truth.” 

They sat there in silence for a long moment. Probably much longer than that. It felt like ages, and before either of them knew better, the sun began to creep up from the horizon—the sky painted a sweet violet which faded into a string of golden auburns. 

And when Minkyun turned to meet Changyoon’s gaze, he found himself completely and utterly alone. The High Lord’s presence simply a mere whisper of his name in the wind. 

—

That evening, after sleeping the greater majority of the day away, Minkyun returned to that very beach. The very place where the truth, one that perhaps Seungjun had learned, had been laid out bare for him to hear. 

Even after sleeping, he almost couldn’t believe what Changyoon had told him. An old wound that had been opened forcibly to make room for his understanding. 

Minkyun took a deep breath, exhaling with the evening breeze. “Lee Changyoon...what have you done?” 

—

“Oh dear!” A young, unfamiliar man exclaimed as they collided. He frantically scrambled to his feet as he reached out a hand towards him. “Oh my goodness,  _ I’m so sorry.” _

Minkyun took the stranger’s outstretched hand to help him up from the cobblestone path. At first glance, Minkyun felt as if he were familiar; something about the young man’s energy pierced through him, almost begging him to be recognized. 

“I sincerely apologize about that…” the man chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I’ve been told my eyesight isn’t that great, I didn’t even see you.” 

There was a fragile elegance to this stranger, in his handsomeness, one that particularly piqued his interest. Not in the way it mattered though. Not in the same way his interest had grown for others. 

“Don’t fret,” Minkyun assured. “It happens. Are you okay?” 

The young man flashed him the most dazzling of smiles, it was nearly hypnotizing. “Surely!” 

“Be careful from now on,” he replied. 

They exchanged a brief bow towards one another in farewell, and Minkyun was going to follow the remainder of the path home, going to go straight to Seungjun and tell him everything he’d been told—whether he wanted to listen to him or not—until everything seemed to halt before him. 

_ “Park Minkyun…”  _ that strange, novel familiar but foreign voice curled in his ears, slowly blurred his memory until it could only hyperfocus on everything but the feeling of his own human body. His feelings. The security of his conscience.

When that young man appeared before him again, a sinister smile curled at the edge of his lips. 

“There is a task which I must ask of you to complete.” 


	33. come home.

The Autumn Court was a fresh breath of air in comparison to the Winter Court. A dazzling as hypnotic mix of cherry auburn, golds, and deep chestnuts, a combination Yuto never thought he’d grow to love as much as he did. There was just something about the constant fall of leaves that never seemed to run dry that mesmerized him, tricked him into believing that the world was truly and wholly at peace with itself. 

It was an elegant, whimsical lie. One that Yuto didn’t mind convincing himself to be the truth. 

The Autumn Court estate was just as beautiful. A bit lavish for his own tastes, but the glistening white marble fortress was enough to impress anyone who had the opportunity to visit. Changyoon was a man of simple taste, which Yuto always found rather laughable, especially after gleaning the High Lord’s blunt and sarcastic personality after all of these years. 

The interior of his home was purely simplistic in both design and what little there was for decor. Honest. Minimal, but practical. 

“Yuto…” 

He was just making his way through the courtyard, toward the towering wooden doors, when Changyoon’s voice snagged him from behind. 

“What are you doing here?” The High Lord’s face went taut as it paled at the sight of the messenger. 

Yuto knew better than anyone that Changyoon feared the messengers of the High Court, not because they held  _ any _ significant power against a High Lord of his stature, but because whatever news they had been deemed to deliver rendered him into a puddle of anxiety. Yuto wasn’t entirely sure what the High Lord had ever done in this life to deserve the mass influx of devastating news that seemed to loom over his existence, but it tragically outweighed every other instance of luck that shined down on him. 

Thinking back on everything Yuto had learned of the High Lord, it was disheartening, knowing that Changyoon faded into something he’s never once been—an empty facade. A mask turned outward to make people believe one thing, while the truth of his silent battle waged behind it. 

If he could patch up what was left of Changyoon’s fragmented heart with his own, he would do it without hesitation. Even a High Lord of his status and grandeur deserved to be protected. 

“Chang—my Lord…” Yuto corrected. He offered a casual bow in his direction before rushing to his side. 

“Why are you here?” Changyoon demanded, taking a single step away.

If Yuto hadn’t grown accustomed to his harsh dryness, he would have flinched at the tone, but he also couldn’t help but be distracted by the High Lord’s glamour—or rather, lack thereof. 

Something happened. There was no other explanation. 

Yuto cleared his throat, forcing a casual but inviting smile onto his face. “I was looking for Hyojin, but he wasn’t at the manor, so I figured he might be here.” 

“Are you carrying a message for him?” 

“Not a written one.” 

“Tell me what it is and I’ll—”

“You know I can’t do that, my Lord…” he interrupted. 

Changyoon scoffed. “You always choose when I’m in a shit mood to be cryptic, don’t you?” 

The words stung, only a little bit, but he kept reminding himself that this was Changyoon’s defense mechanism. To deflect, to unleash his pent up fears and anger on an innocent target. So, instead of saying anything else that might set off his ticking time bomb, Yuto merely offered another bow, this time in apology. 

“If the High Lord is not here, then I guess I’ll be on my way.” 

Another bow. Another blow to the heart.

Yuto made his way to turn and head off of the premises, but the familiar warmth of Changyoon's fingers caught him by the elbow. 

“I’m sorry…” Changyoon crumbled under the words, pulling Yuto back towards him. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

He told himself that he wasn’t hurt, had convinced himself thoroughly that the words—every little backhanded thing Changyoon had ever said to him—meant nothing, but it was an effort to build up the courage to manage a weak smile at the weak apology. 

“Of course I know that…” It was one of the many lines he’d rehearsed, one of many in his arsenal of excuses to forgive the High Lord whenever things like this may happen. “Do you need to talk about it? Whatever it may be that’s bothering you?” 

Changyoon’s fingers tensed around the thick material of Yuto’s uniform, but he didn’t say a word. His mind just seemed to race as his eyes looked everywhere but at the messenger. 

“My Lord...what happened last night?” 

“I—I did something I shouldn’t have,” he said anxiously. 

Yuto starred, waiting for Changyoon to say anything beyond his usual vagueness, but as per usual, the High Lord came up empty handed.

“Are you kidding me?” Yuto blurted out. “You’re a man of  _ many  _ words and now you’re just  _ silent? _ I can’t coddle you through this. You need to bring yourself to say it to work past whatever has you anxious, guilt ridden, whatever it is that’s going on. I don’t know what you expect me to do if you don’t say something.”

“It’s because I know you’ll be disappointed,” Changyoon sighed heavily, sadly. “And you’re one of the few people I’m afraid of disappointing.” 

It was everything Yuto wanted to hear, the absolute bare minimum of what he’d been holding out for after all of this time...and yet, despite his content he couldn’t help but feel his expectations shortening at the disclaimer. He knew immediately that whatever Changyoon had done in the mortal realm was likely an experiment, and was most likely going to backlash in a way he didn’t think through.

That was Changyoon. Ever so much the antagonist in every situation. As much as he seemed to fear the weight of the words of the High Court, he didn’t fear the consequences of his own words or actions until judgment was knocking at his door. Given his track record, and the anxiety that appeared to swallow him whole with each and every breath, Yuto could only prepare himself for the worst. Even though he would still be disheartened by the High Lord’s confession. 

“Tell me anyways.” 

Despite the disappointment—one that Yuto would likely feel, and one that Changyoon probably already struggled with—no one deserved to simmer in a heart gnawing guilt alone. 

“Yuto—”

“You’ve made it this far, haven't you?” He interjected. He took a step toward the High Lord, who only flinched with surprise at the sudden movement. “You’ve opened the door, pushed past the threshold of this conversation. Irrational fear cannot— _ will not— _ protect you now. So, tell me. Tell me what you know, the sins that you’ve committed, and  _ I  _ will do what I can to protect you.” 

A tear dipped hot and fast down Changyoon’s face as Yuto approached him, slowly and hesitantly as if he were a mere animal that had been kicked down by its owner. It was only when the lesser fae was a foot’s length away that those slender calloused fingers grazed his own, something like an offer reaching out for him to take whenever he was ready. 

“No matter how long it takes...I will listen.” 

The words rumbled, much like thunder after it finally acknowledges its alter egos existence; like the quaking of the earth after decades of silence; like the echo of ricocheting bullets after passing through its intended target. 

Yuto was all of those things and more. A disruption that strung him up and out of what he thought to be a permanent daze. A weight that held him firmly in place when everything seemed to spiral out of his control. Other than Hyojin, he was the only other constant in his seemingly endless life. 

“And if I  _ do  _ disappoint you?” 

The messenger lifted his gaze, a simple but passive look of contemplation wrinkling creases across his brow. “You are my High Lord, this realm’s High Lord, I will serve you regardless of my personal feelings on the matter.”

Changyoon’s fingers twitched towards Yuto’s, a reflexive hope swelling in his heart at the consolation. Yet, something like defeat rippled through him as he shuttered against the warm autumn breeze. 

“I—” he started. “Minkyun—I told Minkyun about Hyojin…”

Yuto blinked.

“The war…”

The pixie’s brow furrowed as his heart weakened in his chest.

“Donghun…”

A sharp pang travelled along his nerves, aching as they reached his finger tips. “My Lord—”

_ “His heart.”  _

_ “Changyoon—” _

“I’m sorry…” he whispered,  _ weeped.  _ His hand fell away as Yuto’s wide stare morphed into stunned disbelief. 

“Please tell me it was at least an accident,” Yuto pleaded. “For the love of gods,  _ please  _ tell me you didn’t go to him with that information knowingly.” 

Changyoon opened his mouth to say something,  _ anything,  _ but words evaded him like rain on a sunny day. 

_ “Changyoon…”  _ Yuto exclaimed, a deep set pain lining his name. “Hyojin is your friend! Gods, your  _ best friend.  _ Do you even realize what this could potentially mean? What the former prince may  _ do  _ with that kind of information?!” 

“Yuto, please don’t tell him,” he begged, falling to his knees hard as he hit the ground. “I’ll never ask anything of you again if you keep this between us—”

“And why should I do that?” Yuto scoffed. “What good does keeping quiet do for any of us?  _ Especially  _ Hyojin.” 

“I fed Minkyun that knowledge knowingly,” Changyoon sobbed. “I needed to ensure that we could trust him alongside the prince—”

Yuto stumbled away. “Even in a million years, perhaps even longer, I would have never expected this from you. You, who has spent centuries protecting Hyojin from any harm that threatened to even glimmer at him.  _ You,  _ who fought alongside him in the war, witnessed the murder of his dear friend, and stood by as he committed the most wretchful acts in Fae magic…after everything you’ve ever been through together, after everything you’ve ever seen, you thought your distrust of a mere mortal boy was enough to compromise that?” 

“I’m—”

“Save your apology,” Yuto said. “There’s no point in wasting your breath on an apology that’s not meant for me to begin with. When the time comes, you will get your chance. Not to me, but to Hyojin, because it is he who will ultimately suffer the most in all of this.” 

—

Changyoon spent the rest of that very same day winnowing. 

Haphazardly. Clumsily. 

His mind raced with everything that could go wrong, slamming him with figments of Hyojin’s anger—the lashing out of one High Lord’s magic against another’s, and Changyoon knew that Hyojin’s fierce magic was far more likely to reduce him to a pile of ash than bestow him the mercy of forgiveness or understanding. 

He’d been winnowing around the Pandorian province for the greater majority of the evening, hoping to find Seungjun or Minkyun somewhere in town, even going as far as returning to Minkyun’s frequently inhabited tavern several times to see if the young man would finally appear before him. 

“I don’t think you’re going to find him here,” a strangely familiar voice called out to him from behind the bar. 

This was Changyoon’s fifth time cycling through the establishment, and his desperation must have been far more apparent than he initially believed. 

From behind the bar, the High Lord’s gaze settled on the tavern owner that Minkyun had been talking to the other night. He eyed him with suspicion as he took in the gleam of a glamour he hadn’t noticed the night before. If it hadn’t been for the flicker of deep violet that twinkled in his eyes like evening stars, Changyoon may have never even known the difference. 

It was one of the various potentially fatal flaws that came with trying to maintain a glamour in the mortal realm. Even High Lords, despite their vast well of power, were no exemption from the natural laws. The further away a High Fae was from Faerie, the weaker their connection was with their natural abilities. It was the difference between being wholly concealed or being exposed in a land that would spear your head through a stake. 

Changyoon pushed his hands into his coat pockets, a shallow attempt to hide the curling of his fingers into a fist. “Who says that he won’t turn up? It’s still early.” 

“An alcoholic knows a true alcoholic,” the stranger grumbled. 

“And a High Fae knows another when they see one.” 

The feline smirk faltered from the owner’s lips, his face falling slack against the weight of discovery. 

“You always have been overly perceptive, haven’t you, Changyoon?” 

In the same way a candle is violently and suddenly snuffed out, the tavern descended into darkness. The pointed curve of Changyoon’s ears caught every small movement, a heightened sense of awareness settling into him like a predator stalking unknown prey. Rather, two predators fighting for the upper hand in a place that didn’t take lightly to magic. 

To  _ them.  _

And when the tavern was lit aflame once more, it remained empty with the exception of the High Lord of the Night Court standing across the table from him. That dripping, venomous smirk carving a subtle realization in Changyoon’s bones. 

_ “You bastard…” _ Changyoon cursed. “I should have known—”

“Known what exactly?” He teased. “It seems there is  _ much  _ to know when it comes to you and the Winter High Lord…”

“You, and whatever you  _ think _ you know about my business with the High Lord, can go to  _ hell.”  _

Inyeop chuckled, his deep tone reverberating, stretching out until it snagged his attention; hypnotizing him into complete and utter stillness. 

“I’m surprised by you,” Inyeop admitted, no matter how backhanded it felt against Changyoon’s ego. “By your ability to aid the High Lord in concealing a dangerous truth for  _ this _ long.  _ Centuries.  _ It’s astonishing...really.” 

“Now is not the time to be cryptic. Just come out and say whatever it is you believe you know…”

“I almost can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner,” the High Lord ran a hand through his deep raven hair, and when his hand fell back against his side, any trace of emotion drained from his face. “That each of you—you, Hyojin, Yuto, and that disgraceful halfling—”

_ “You shut your damn mouth,”  _ Changyoon snarled. “How  _ dare  _ you speak of him in that way—”

“—have played a part in concealing the very fact that Hyojin removed his heart from his person. An act  _ you _ of all people should understand to be punishable by death.” 

“Hyojin has done nothing wrong.”

Inyeop stepped around the table, his steps slow and deliberate in antagonizing Changyoon’s growing nerves. With the click of his heel against the worn floorboards, Inyeop halted a breath away, tilting his jaw up in accusation. “Hasn’t he?” 

Changyoon rolled his eyes. “There’s no proof to show for whether or not he’s committed such an act.” 

Another smirk blossomed on the High Lord’s painfully handsome face, daring to take another step forward. Changyoon was damn sure Inyeop could hear his heart hammering rapidly against his chest, could smell the anxious fear seeping out into the air. It would certainly override the steel expression he’d spent decades crafting, painstakingly practicing for moments like this. 

“Sweet,  _ sweet _ High Lord of Autumn…” Inyeop reached out and straightened the lapels of Changyoon’s coat, pulling down on them too aggressively to be a friendly gesture. “Make no mistake, I will have my proof soon enough.” 

It  _ almost  _ came as no surprise when the High Lord began to fade like smoke, rippling out of existence until he was merely a shadow of thought. 

And then the panic set in. 

—

Minkyun had spent hours,  _ days,  _ mindlessly and absently digging. 

He had no control of his body; his own free will, as gifted by the gods themselves at the creation of time itself, was nothing but a twinkle of light at the end of this seemingly endless tunnel. 

_ Find the heart of the Winter Prince.  _

The words echoed incessantly at the back of his mind; rumbling low in his ears; etched themselves deep into his heart; burrowed itself extensively until his soul was hollowed out. 

Until there was absolutely nothing left but the words. The simple command that forced him to move against his will, demanded something of him that went against his and his best friend’s wishes—whether Seungjun knew the truth or not. 

_ You are not permitted to rest until that very object is found.  _

So he would dig. 

And dig. 

And to the likes of the High Fae, to High Lords, the exhaustion of a mere mortal was the least of their worries. The magic would fuel him until he had come across the object in question. 

Hyojin’s heart, carved straight from his chest nearly half a millennia ago. A burial site that was meant to be left undisturbed. If not for personal reasons, but for moral ones. Even Minkyun, whose blatant dislike for the High Lord prevented them from getting any closer than acquaintanceship, knew better than to seek out something that didn’t belong to him. 

Yet, somehow, he knew he was already guilty of doing so with Seungjun. The moment the Pandorian prince stepped through the fae border on that day he’d come for him, he knew that the prince no longer belonged to him. Knew that somewhere between the time he’d left and unwillingly returned, their relationship—or what had been left of it—had been abandoned. 

And it was for that very reason Minkyun begged himself to stop this. Pulled against every last string of thought he believed he could control, every muscle, and pleaded for dear life. 

_ I’m sorry. _

Minkyun couldn’t bring himself to say the words, seeing that he wasn’t physically permitted to say anything at all, unless at the command of his puppeteer, but he could feel them.  _ Drowned  _ in them. The remorse waded through him like a rock sinking in water. It pressed down on his conscience, heavy but knowingly, until he was sure he was going to burst out of his own skin into a flame so beautiful and bold. 

He would let that very spark of life take him to the grave if it meant escaping this hellish prison. 

_ What if I asked you to leave with me?  _

_ The reward will never outweigh the cost, Minkyun.  _

And for the first time, after all of these years, after all of the nights he’d lay awake thinking about that conversation, Minkyun realized that Seungjun was completely and utterly wrong. 

For it was here and now that they were paying for abandoning their dreams. Corrupted dreams that they’d never be able to turn back to for guidance, for pleasure, for anything. 

It had slipped from their fingers, through the cracks of their fading desires, and while they weren’t looking, morphed into this nightmare. 

So, Minkyun continued to dig. His muscles aching with each and every breath, screaming for relief that didn’t seem manageable. 

And then there it was. 

A tremendous number of feet down in the sand, laying gracefully and brightly between the forgotten bones of what had to be their long-lost king was the enchanted heart of Faerie’s most feared, most powerful High Lord. Stowed away for the world to never find, to never see the light of day, or the warmth of its owner’s chest. 

It wasn’t until Minkyun saw the heart that he finally understood why Hyojin had clawed it from his being. 

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to feel the burning agony he likely felt on the day of the king’s death, or because he selfishly wanted to live forever…

But because this was the only thing he could offer to the friend he’d slain. The last thing he could offer to show his loyalty—to him, to his beliefs, to ending the war with Unseelie blood spilt on mortal land. 

It was a promise. A promise he’d kept for five hundred years. 

And Minkyun’s own heart ached as he cradled the High Lord’s charmed heart in his hands. 

_ Come home,  _ it seemed to whisper.  _ Come home.  _


	34. air & darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wjc im so sorry I lied to y’all lol

The Dark Forest welcomed Seungjun as if it were an old friend. 

The Pandorian prince wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remember the path, wasn’t sure if he’d be able to find it in his memory to remember something that wasn’t even there. Yet, where his memory failed him, his body did not. It surprised him really. 

The pull and tug of that stubborn Fae border called out to him like an owl in the night, begging for his companionship, a silent plea for what it had lost to return. 

That very border hummed—no,  _ purred— _ in his presence. The air between him and it charged with something he couldn’t quite comprehend. Brushing his hand up against it, the invisible shield bucked under his touch, allowing his fingers to pass through it as if it were simply water. Somehow it exuded a tremendous source of warmth, as if it were inviting him to cave, to step forth and embrace a world he never got to pay a proper farewell to. 

And he  _ was  _ tempted—knowing that giving into the fine line that lies between desire and authority would cause everything he’d worked towards for this last year to collapse on top of him. 

It would have been so easy. To say yes. To give in...but there were too many things he wasn’t willing to risk. 

Not now. 

Seungjun startled as a strong gust of wind knocked him off of his feet, and when he finally had enough sense to gather his thoughts and open his eyes, Changyoon and Hyojin stood several yards away. 

_ “Seungjun…” _ The name fell from Chanyoon’s lips as if they’d always been made to say it, as if he’d always been meant to be one of the few people to ever be allowed to. 

Changyoon was before him in seconds, stretching out his hand to help him up from the leaf-littered soil. 

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly as he stood. 

“What are you—why are you here?” Changyoon wondered aloud, the confusion set deeply in the words.

Before Seungjun could even get an answer out, Hyojin was pulling him into his arms, into a bone crushing hug that made his soul ache. Truthfully, it hadn’t been long since they’d seen each other, only a matter of days, but all of that felt like it had nearly been a lifetime ago. Being accustomed to time in both the mortal realm and Faerie, the days merely blurred together as if night and day merely ceased to exist. Rather, he navigated life through a series of light and darkness, sleep—or lack thereof—acting as a buffer between the two.

_ “You shouldn’t be here,”  _ Hyojin whispered, the agony in his voice sending a wave of worry through him.

Seungjun pulled away, just enough to scan his face, to scan the High Lord that stood adjacent to them. An equal mix of shock and turmoil raged in their faces, in their body language, and Seungjun was sure that there were more questions crossing his face than he cared to admit, but it was clear that the High Lord’s couldn’t bring themselves together fast enough to explain. 

“What’s wrong?” Seungjun rushed out, panic slowly rising up his spine like a snake coiling its prey. 

The prince looked to Changyoon, ignored Hyojin’s prying hands that were desperately trying to get him to look at him. 

_ “Changyoon.” _

The Autumn High Lord sighed,  _ shuttered _ under the weight of whatever burden threatened him into collapsing. “This is...a  _ situation.”  _

“A  _ situation,”  _ Hyojin echoed, venom coating the words. 

Seungjun drew his gaze back to Hyojin, who looked far more bitter than he’d ever recalled seeing in their time together. 

“One of the High Lord’s is after something that is valuable to Hyojin…” Changyoon explained, rushing the words as if he were running low on time. “If he is able to get his hands on it before we do...I don’t know what is going to happen.”

“Let me help you—”

_ “No.” _

_ “Absolutely not—” _

The two High Lords spoke simultaneously, shutting down his offer without even an ounce of hesitation. 

“But—”

Hyojin placed a hand on either side of Seungjun’s face, cradling it as if it were the most precious and fragile thing to ever exist. “Please...please, just this once, go home. I will find you once this is all over. I promise.” 

Voluntary or not, Seungjun wasn’t sure, but he found himself shaking his head. He opened his mouth to argue, but Hyojin swallowed the space between them. The kiss was short, but it lingered. Somewhere deep in his gut he could feel the intent, could understand Hyojin’s hasty desperation. 

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to Seungjun’s, unable to open his eyes as he said,  _ “I promise…” _

And he believed him. 

So, he waved the white flag, surrendered to their request as he hesitantly nodded in agreeance. 

“Okay,  _ okay,”  _ Hyojin sighed, dropping his hands to his side in relief. “Changyoon will take you home.” 

Seungjun didn’t dare look at Hyojin after his eyes left him, he was too afraid to look back, what emotions and regret may linger in the High Lord’s face as he watched him walk away. He was terrified of what this all meant, what they were looking for, what their fellow High Lord wanted with whatever it may be. 

For now, he would squash it. If he knew anything, curiosity was death’s best friend. Its lover of sorts. 

As he took Changyoon’s hand, the Autumn High Lord smiled weakly but gratefully as they were pulled across the sky, between time, space, and everything that lingered in between the two, until they stood at the foot of the Pandorian manor. 

“We’ll see you soon.” 

Then, he was alone.

—

_ This isn’t who you are. _

_ You are Lee Seungjun’s best friend.  _

_ You only take orders from him.  _

_ Stop this madness.  _

Minkyun screamed at himself, begged himself to stop as he trekked through the dense sand. The High Lord’s heart tucked away into his jacket to keep from prying eyes. 

His feet were heavy as they trudged and stumbled along some uncharted path, the magic leading him to wherever he may find his conductor waiting for him, yanking his chain like a helpless dog. And as much as he willed himself to fight against it, desperately tried to dig his heels into the sand, to anchor himself to who he believed himself to be, he couldn’t stop walking. 

He was just about to step through the threshold into town when Changyoon appeared. Suddenly. Magically. Laws be damned. 

_ “Minkyun.”  _

_ Changyoon, please, help me.  _ He begged silently. Not even the lines of his face would contort to express the distress that crushed him, the same way humans stepped on bugs when they were frightened. 

“Minkyun,” Changyoon tried again. “Please stop. Talk to me.” 

But he couldn’t. 

Yet, the world suddenly seemed to stand still, his aching legs coming to halt as the sky receded from violet to black. 

A wicked chuckle echoed from behind. “Ahhh, Changyoon. I see you did manage to find him after all.” 

That voice. The very same that overtook him, like a shadow slipping through night, blending with a darkness so rich that its newfound camouflage made it the predator now. 

“Inyeop. Let him go!” 

Hyojin stepped out of the shadows, an anger so vivid and cruel turned his face red even amidst the darkness. 

“And why should I?” He purred, an air of amusement on his tongue.

“How  _ dare  _ you come to the mortal realm and claim a human captive,” Hyojin spat. “This practice was outlawed centuries ago. And I was foolish enough to believe you when you said you were on our side. After all of this time, gods knows for how long, you just wanted to usurp me in the Queen’s ranks.” 

“Ever so perceptive,” Inyeop mused. “Just like our Changyoon here.” 

“I won’t ask you again, let him go,” the High Lord of Winter demanded. “I’ll give you whatever you want if you just set him free.” 

“I have always been second best to you, Hyojin…” Inyeop stepped around Minkyun as if he were nothing but a piece of furniture, an ornate and beautiful piece of decoration he’d grown accustomed to. “You’ve always been in the Queen’s favor, and for what reasons? You may be powerful, but your weaknesses outweigh everything that is good and just about you. Your infatuation with the mortal realm, befriending the lesser Fae,  _ trusting  _ the High Fae in the same way mortals would each other. I told you once before, you wear your heart on your sleeve, High Lord...allowing anyone and everyone to see it for what it is, who you are, has brought us to where we are today.

“You have always let your emotions take reign over situations that have no business seeing the lightness of your heart. It is the reason you are so powerful, but that very power is unpredictable. A threat to mortals and Fae alike. I told you that one day you would have to face the repercussions of your ignorance…” 

Changyoon stepped in front of Hyojin, pushing the Winter High Lord behind him. “If you do this, you will be breaking  _ dozens _ of High Court laws—”

“As if either of you haven’t done so yourselves?” Inyeop scoffed. “You’ve managed to get away with it for this long after all.” 

“Besides…” he continued. “Who said that I’d be doing anything?”

Almost as if on cue, Minkyun’s back straightened with a ferocity so jarring, Hyojin jumped at its suddenness.

Slowly, Minkyun pulled Hyojin’s heart from where it had been hidden beneath the folds of his coat. It glimmered in the moonlight, gleamed with that cast of magic that he’d bound to it centuries ago. 

Hyojin held his breath as he gazed upon it. He’d always been connected to it, had always felt it from a distance, but he’d grown used to being hollow.  _ Feeling  _ hollow. It was that very emptiness that reminded him he wasn’t innocent. He’d hurt many people throughout his life, murdered his best friend—this realm’s king, had killed many other innocent and guilty Fae alike. Seeing his heart, teetering in the hands of a mortal, reminded him that ever since the war his life was and always had been forfeit. 

And it had hurt. Thinking back to a past he’d forever be shackled to. Watching as the memories ran across his vision like a kaleidoscope on a beautiful summer day. 

But there was no greater pain than Minkyun driving that Night Court dagger straight through his heart. 

His life, the memories—the good and the bad, the people he’d grown to love and hate, all of it flashed before his very eyes. His knees trembled violently until they gave way under him, and he was suddenly grateful for the sand he’d always hated. 

The color of this world faded. 

The inaudible screams of Changyoon’s heartbroken cries were nothing more than a mere whisper against his skin. 

It seemed fitting. That he would die here—on the very beach where he’d slain his best friend. He’d spent much of his life feeling helplessly exhausted, tired of living with the truth of knowing what he’d done to someone he cared about so deeply. 

And yet, as the world around him snuffed out, winked out in the same way stars disappeared from the early morning sky, all he could see was Seungjun. 

The Pandorian Prince who, in the end, had come to him. Despite all the odds in this cruel and tragic world. 

A mere mortal who’d survived an overdose of Fae magic, the same magic that had stolen his ability to feel. 

A person, crafted by Fae magic and not, that had finally given him a reason to live.

**Author's Note:**

> twt @ LIGHTSJ00N

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [freedom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28025874) by [teddygirl105](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddygirl105/pseuds/teddygirl105)




End file.
